


If Your Heart Is A Dog Fight Then I'm Ready To Go To War Like

by fandomfluffandfuck



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: "Scientific" Research, (Bucky's a nerd that's getting fucked real good), (it's the first time Steve's been with an omega), (kinda), (meantioned) - Freeform, (not really but also yes?), (on both Bucky and Steve's part), (sorta... you'll see), Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Awkward Conversations, Begging, Blow Jobs, Bonding, Bucky Has An Anxiety Disorder, Caretaking, Come Inflation, Coming In Pants, Coming Untouched, Conversations, Coworkers Being Annoying, Desperation, Dildos, Dirty Talk, Distension, Dom/sub, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Double Knotting, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, Dry Humping, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Excessive Giggling/Laughter, Exchanging Phone numbers, Falling In Love, Feels, Feminization, Finger Sucking, Fingerfucking, First Kiss, First Meetings, First Time, First Times, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Grinding, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Knotting, Knotting Dildos, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, Love Confessions, Love at First Sight, M/M, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mattress/Pillow Humping, Meet-Awkward, Meet-Cute, Minor Injuries, Misunderstandings, Moving In Together, Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Masturbation, Omega Bucky Barnes, Omega Verse, Praise Kink, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Scenting, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Toys, Shower Sex, Spanking, Squirting, Stomach Bulge, Teasing, Texting, Thighs, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Workplace Trouble, bucky is an ER nurse, fleshlight, long haired bucky, steve is a firefighter, thigh fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:40:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 78,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25321036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomfluffandfuck/pseuds/fandomfluffandfuck
Summary: Bucky isn't used to alpha's being the nicest to him, he knows why even if he doesn't get it- he's a male omega. A very rare subset of the already rare part of the population that's second gender isn't beta. Which is what makes it all the more shocking when his "perfect match" walks in during one of his shifts and is irrefutably nice to him.This is that story. The story of how they went from a patient nurse relationship to an alpha omega pair who's bond is unbreakable.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 169
Kudos: 540





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> 1) Title from Jon Bellion's "Carry Your Throne" which always makes me think of stucky. 
> 
> 2) I apologize in advance for the prediction that this will be updated slow, I tend to write for an hour or so daily because this is just happening in my free time and just the first chapter took me three days to write so... 
> 
> 3) I have no clue how long this will be but there will be explicit content (heat and rut sharing specifically) eventually so it's rated as such. 
> 
> 4) I apologize for any incorrect medical jargon. I'm just using google as a resource.

They’ve just gotten in three new ambulances that are all from the same district (same ambulance station too) and Bucky already had a headache from a screaming child who he was assigned to so Bucky’s life is decidedly not easy tonight. This might be one of his worst shifts- it’s definitely topped by that one time a semi hit a school bus full of student athletes (middle school age) and the emergency room was overflowing with parents and their children who were all patients but still definitely up there. 

The ER was already packed full of people who all have different issues (most relating to drunk accidents because /of course/ it’s a friday night) that need attending to and he now has to find room for three gurneys. Three gurneys that have three people who cannot walk and need major surgeries with the addition of two others who can walk but are in bad enough shape that means they might as well not be able to. And he doesn’t need the charge nurse (the nurse in /charge/ of organizing the ER) shouting at him from across the way to tell him about how the patients (all related to one another via blood) were trapped in their burning home for roughly thirty minutes before escaping. 

He’s not an idiot. 

He knows that, he doesn’t even have to look at them to know it. They all reek of it and certainly not for the first time he’s cursing evolution for giving omega’s such sensitive noses. Usually it’s because someone’s so bloody he can smell it on them in such a way that means he can literally taste it too (seeing as he’s an omega and has a wonderfully strong sense of smell on top of that). Now it’s because they smell of smoke and it’s beginning to choke him as if he was in the fire too. However that really isn’t really that bad when you also consider that they have other wounds… meaning they waft the scent of burning flesh. Which is exactly not what Bucky wants or needs but it is what he gets for thinking he wanted to be an emergency room nurse not just a regular care nurse. 

He’s thinking about punching himself in the face the second he gets off his shift when he sees him again. 

The man had come in with the three ambulances- which have all left by time he’s not running around like his head was cut off because it's nearly been an hour -and Bucky had assumed because of his uniform that he was a firefighter who had come in with the victims to report the situation to the nurses and other emergency staff. But… he’s still here. Usually any of the first responders who relay information back to ER staff by coming in with the EMTS leave just as soon as they do. 

Again Bucky reminds himself, gritting his teeth, that he’s not an idiot so there has to be something wrong here. He looks fine. At least from what Bucky can see of him looks okay- he is only able to see the man’s impressively broad shoulders and comically (comparatively to his shoulders at least) tiny waist and long legs. An alpha then, he thinks as he walks towards the man.   
He gets stopped by another nurse before he can reach the stranger. She’s apologizing on behalf of the charge nurse, spouting the same old “stressful situations instincts” excuse that’s been used since he’s been at his hospital. He waves her off. Busying himself with unhappy grumbling about having a female alpha as their charge nurse- not because she isn’t good at her job, she’s fantastic… most of the time. It’s just that she’s not cool under pressure. Often using (supposedly “unintentional”) pheromones and her alpha voice to get them to do what she wants which has always made him scoff. They’re going to take care of people whether she orders them to or not so there is absolutely /no/ use in making all the omega nurses on shift completely uncomfortable or worse shaky and uncertain from the sudden angry alpha. 

His train of thought revolving around trashing his boss is interrupted by the sound of someone attempting to hack their lungs out of their mouth. It makes his upper lip curl up a little, it’s a dry and rough sound but still wheezing. Like they’re trying to get something out of them by coughing but they can’t get enough air in to-

Bucky’s head shoots up fast enough a strand of hair comes loose from his ponytail, he frantically tries to see where the firefighter went because that cough is something he’s heard before from smoke inhalation. Something that can be harmless but also deadly depending on the degree of damage. 

He’s been drowning out the noise all night, or rather- not focusing in on it. He just thought it was someone who had a bad cold or maybe bronchitis even though it’s not really the right time of year for that. Now he panics- if that guy, if he’s a firefighter surely he has it bad then.

The blessedly soothing scent of one of the beta’s he works with mellows his own fear spiked one when he comes to Bucky’s side, “you should try to examine him” Bucky raises an eyebrow and Lucus puts his hands up. “Not what I meant Buck, he just- he won’t let anyone examine him. Saying he can wait until the victims from the house fire were dealt with.” They haven’t been- not entirely at least because they’re all still in the ER but… they are out of sight. 

Bucky walks faster over to the apparently pig-headed alpha, planning on doing whatever it takes (including fluttering his eyelashes if need be) to get this guy into an exam room. Though he thankfully doesn’t have to play the sweet pretty little omega nurse because before he’s even next to the alpha his knees are buckling with a cough that wracks his huge frame. Thanking the universe once more Bucky is able to catch him before his knees can crack down against the very hard (like unreasonably so- who decided to design a hospital (where they are unsteady people all over) that has tile floors over just concrete?!) tiles. 

He continues to cough but manages to grab back onto Bucky- in what he’s going to take as thanks.

By the time he finishes coughing Bucky is seriously worrying about if he’s going to start retching blood or stop breathing. Neither happens though, the only blessing in Bucky’s day it seems, instead the alpha lets more of his weight lean on Bucky. Apparently when he’s not coughing he’s a much better judge at who’s holding him up beyond their designation. Bucky is aware he smells like an omega ‘cause he fucking is one so he hadn’t been /that/ offended when after the man had scented the air initially he lifted himself a little bit off of him. 

“Done?” Bucky asks, going for teasing but unsurprisingly when the words come out they sound more like they’re coming from a worried mother. He fights the urge to duck his head in embarrassment from it. The alpha- who’s scent he somehow can smell even through his smoke soaked uniform -doesn’t fight him. He nods, clearing his throat. Or attempting to. 

“Don’t do that. You shouldn’t be trying to clear your throat, it’s going to make-” his scolding is cut off by more hacking. When he stops Bucky continues, “It’s just going to make it worse, okay?” He adds, tone softening at the clinging pain diluting his scent. “Come on, you need some patching up and you are not going to argue. Not with me.” He intends to punctuate his mini rant with an icy glare but when their eyes meet Bucky whimpers internally. A rope of lightning thrumming under and tugging under his skin.

Even covered in a fine dusting of ash and sprawling black smears of charcoal the alpha is gorgeous. Large deep blue eyes that are accentuated by pale skin and thick eyebrows. His brows are a sandy, brownish blonde while his hair is a darker brown. Bucky determines that his hair is coated in ash and therefore dyed a bit. His jaw is what Bucky’s eyes linger on though, it’s strong, squared and fucking perfect. 

He watches, pleased, as the perfect alpha’s nostrils flair a little. His eyes searching Bucky too. He also likes the look of Bucky, in the least- hopefully he had felt that pull too. 

Their private public moment is broken when he doubles over to cough again. This time while being a literal support system for him Bucky swears he can feel pangs of sympathy pains in his own throat as well as the overall discomfort this guy is obviously having. He brushes it away with a shake of his head. Compatibility on a level that forms an “Unconscious Immediate Bond” (in layman's terms it’s known as a either a “soulmate bond” or “perfect match”) is rare, so rare in fact that it’s practically science fiction. Compatibility can be found in any type of pairing between two of the designations, though compatibility that can be referred to as UIB has only been documented in alpha omega pairs- no. Bucky shoos his brain away from that idea. This alpha needs his help. He isn’t his perfect match or his soulmate. Besides the odds are way too improbable with only twenty two percent of the population being alpha or omega and only fourteen percent of the twenty two being alphas (seven percent for female and seven for male). Meaning just eight percent of the population is omega (seven percent female and one male). So no, even with those numbers there’s still a mind boggling amount of alpha’s out there. This one is not his. 

He’s just forcing something where there isn’t anything. He needs to just do his job.

Bucky encourages him to breathe, rubbing circles on his back lightly to sooth him some even though it realistically isn’t going to help. He nearly hums too. But quickly schools his own breathing to prevent it- he is a professional and will not coo at a patient because said patient is a very attractive alpha. 

Once his latest fit dies down Bucky offers “are you gonna demand proof that the other patients have been taken care of before I can get you into an exam room or can we do this the easy way?” The alpha smiles at him, an… uhm, interesting look gracing his handsome face that forces Bucky to look away or start to blush. He chooses the first option and disguises it as trying to locate an open room. 

They make it into one without being stopped by any more of Bucky’s coworkers or more coughing fits. Bucky directs the stubborn alpha to sit on the bench for now. He goes without a fight and slumps against the wall a little like his puppeteering strings have been severed. As he begins to turn to grab gloves so he can examine him he undoes his hair quickly. Shaking out the tangles that have gathered before he flips his head, collecting the collarbone length strands so he can tie them back again. 

He hears the alpha take a shaky inhale so he hurries even more. 

Snapping on some gloves and finding his stethoscope without even looking Bucky returns his thoughts to smoke inhalation treatments... uncoiling it from around his neck in the elegant way one of the other omega’s taught him to do as a joke originally but accidentally became his muscle memory he murmurs under his breath: how long was the patient exposed to smoke, how much smoke was there, what caused the smoke, how’s the patient’s pulse, how irritated are the airways, are the airways closing, how difficult is it for the patient to breath, does the patient need a chest x-ray to check for major lung damage, get the patient to consent to a few blood tests if need be, is the patient complaining of anything else- 

Before Bucky can plan his attack beyond reciting the diagnostic tools and the series of questions he should ask the patient, he speaks up, “Uhh” he puffs out. It sounds like it hurts but knowing how he reacted to such a serious situation by not being checked over first Bucky doesn’t try to stop him. He puts his stethoscope back around his neck and fills on the little paper cups they have on hand with water- passing it to the alpha with a hopefully encouraging look. 

They’re fingers brush. The same lightning from before bolts through the omega’s system- shocking him with it’s intensity. 

And judging by the alpha’s reaction he definitely felt it too… the reaction having been spilling the water all over his crotch and meaty thighs. Bucky curses in viral diseases- which typically would embarrass him because he started doing it because it’s “unprofessional” to use crude language at work but once he got into the habit at work it bled into the rest of his life but it makes the handsome patient laugh so he doesn’t care. Well, he doesn’t laugh so much as happily wheeze and if it wasn’t the smoke wracking his system it would be an endearing sound. Now it’s a worrying sound. 

He takes the cup back and refills it. Busying himself with locating tissues or something to dry the alpha’s damp, uhm, areas. Bucky flushes, feeling like he’s back in high school and crushing on the quarterback. 

He triumphantly faces the alpha again when he finds a stray towel in the cabinets, offering it to him sheepishly. He opens his mouth to speak but the alpha beets him to it.

“S-sorry.” He offers hoarsely, “I’m Steve, I- I’m the second in command at the firehouse near here, we have engines one-o-one, one-o-two, and one-o-three. My fire chief sent me in with the victims caught in the fire ‘cause my face shield broke.” 

Bucky gives him what he hopes is an immensely displeased look, “your face shield broke?”

“Yeah,” he offers roughly. Seemingly done with his explanation before realizing something, “the face shield is the like see-through poly-carbonate sheets that protect our faces-”

“I know what a face shield is- I’m confused as to how you broke it? Like did you break the ventilation system that brings you oxygen or the actual shield part?” He snatches back the cup for a refill and demands his brain to stop thinking about how if his fingertips felt like /that/ on his skin then how would the rest of him feel? How nice would it feel to just hold hands? Or- No. He compromises with himself as he shuts off the sink, he will focus on the way his hindbrain is screaming at him to take care of his alpha. Wait- what?! His? No- this alpha isn’t his? 

He shoves his metaphorical foot into his metaphorical mouth. No. He is just going to patch him up and scold him a little (because he’s never known, never even heard of the possibility of a firefighter breaking their face shield) and send him on his way. If Steve- Steve that’s a nice name. If Steve feels his distress through the clearly not perfect match connection they have he doesn’t react, he simply takes the cup back with a please smile. 

“I got hit-” he takes a drink from the stupid little paper cup that looks even stupider and smaller in his massive hands. “By a falling beam or something. Point is that it was heavy and it barely hit my helmet- instead it knocked my shield pretty good. Cracked it I guess. And…” Steve pauses, looking for something in Bucky’s expression, the omega isn’t sure if he finds it or not but he does continue. “And, I’m sure you know all about adrenaline and its effects on the body, well I thought it was a surface crack. I was hopped up on enough adrenaline I guess that I didn’t realize I was breathing in only about eighty seven percent of my oxygen- according to the sensors in the suit -and that the rest was smoke. So I’m going to blame the actual shield, yeah, not the ventilator.” 

Bucky nods satisfied with how much better Steve’s voice sounds already- how much better he seems already. He fights the need to shake his head to disperse the thoughts of how maybe it’s because of their link, that doesn’t exist, that the alpha is calming down. As a substitute Bucky completes the action he started and stopped earlier, grabbing his stethoscope. He motions to his own uniform, scrubs that today are baby blue, as a way to get Steve to remove his own uniform. The blonde had already undone his heavy fire-retardant jacket but it was still on his bulky frame which-

“Are you cold?” 

“What?” He pauses his movements, holding his arms behind him to take off the jacket fully. “No? Why-”

“You’re still wearing your uniform top- I, I.. It’s a symptom of smoke inhalation in the very late stages. Getting cold- the lack of oxygen in the cells triggers them to stop performing their tasks at the regular rate and slowing down means less friction at an atomic level. Less friction means less heat. Plus if you don’t have enough oxygen that means that typically your blood circulation becomes less efficient and that also makes you cold.” He stops his rant, heat gathering high in his cheeks as he awaits Steve’s reaction. 

“Oh…” he chuckles, the low rough tone making Bucky’s hindbrain kick forward to insist that he whimper. The handsome alpha grins as if he knows what the brunette is thinking. “Well, I don’t think I’ll retain any of that information but it’s good to know that I’m in good hands.” 

Bucky’s instincts have him mortifyingly close to visibly preening under the warm compliment provided to him. Convincing himself the reaction is coming from basically being called smart by an alpha. Most, well, the one’s Bucky’s met typically don’t like their omega to be all that smart. Studies having shown that biologically alphas will prefer to have beautiful mates (in both betas and omegas) rather than intelligence because omega’s evolved to care for others not to strategize ways to hunt and protect (which Bucky thinks is based on bias bullshit- omega’s must’ve needed to be smart because they protected the young while ALONE and had to teach the young so…). 

Realizing Steve is awaiting a response, Bucky nods and thanks him quietly before stepping in close so he can get a ballpark for how damaged, or ideally, how perfectly intact his lungs are. He shushes the alpha when he starts to open his mouth again, coaching him through the very simple task as a distraction. 

By the end of the exam Bucky has listened to Steve’s lungs from his (impressive) chest and (also very impressive) back, performed a routine ABG test (for making sure the extremities are being properly oxygenated, taken some blood for a complete blood count and metabolic panel and referred him for a check-in appointment in a week upon request. Bucky had asked him if he felt he needed that because the tests he’d performed had shown that he was in good shape. Steve explained that he already knew his chief would want him to come back in and the following sentences that had fallen from his enchanting lips looked to surprise him as well as Bucky. 

“So, in case I have any issues between now and next Friday can I have your number, you seem to know a lot about this.” His hand falls from continuing the broad gesture it had been making, possibly from sensing Bucky’s oncoming rejection before he even knows he’s going to do that. 

His overcast blue eyes sweep Steve’s form forlornly, “you’re a patient.” He offers, quieter than he would like to admit. Steve’s eyes search his, widening as he smells the sharp tinge of woe polluting Bucky’s sweet scent. Naturally his own scent soars as his instincts shout at him to calm the distressed omega. 

“So?” He offers dumbly before realizing why. Frantically he follows up, “I mean, yeah. Of course we can’t- you can’t… Switch me.” 

“What?” Bucky peeks back up, his eyes wide and a touch watery making his eyes look even bigger and bluer. Steve stands, the string tied around his waist tugging him to the omega. The closer he gets the greater the pull. 

“You said the appointment you requested for him would be with you.” He explains vibrating with need to touch Bucky, to comfort, to hold. “If you switch me to see someone else I’ll no longer be your patient.” 

Bucky straightens up. Yes, of course? Why didn’t he- 

He looks back to Steve, tilting his head to the side, “did I just…”

“Just what?” Steve prompts him.

“You- I, I.” He struggles to find the correct string of words in the tangle of his brain so he just grabs Steve’s wrist. 

Steve hums and Bucky gasps at the same time. Their noises overlapping like they’re from the same place, they sound good together he thinks- strangely proud of the fact. Steve unpeels his fingers from around his wrist where they stayed as if glued and interlocks them with his own. The lightning in Bucky stops, contented, Steve’s rope of ‘this is right’ unwinds for the same reason. Bucky feels a little light headed, giddy even. He knows very very very faintly- so faint in fact he’s not entirely sure he’s not just making it up -that Steve feels the same way. 

Remembering a study he read in college he hums low enough in his throat that the vibrations can’t be heard, curious if Steve will have a reaction. He can’t recall exact numbers but he does know it was a massive amount of perfect match or soulmate bonds that when making inaudible sounds the other would respond. Often without thinking or knowing why they were doing it. 

A helpless, impulsive grin spreads its way over his face as Steve growls lowly back. It’s not anything he’s used to hearing from an alpha but there is no denying that it’s an alpha noise. It’s not aggressive or overpowering- it’s simply… warm. Steve focuses back in on him because of his little experiment, clearly confused by his own actions. His eyebrows coming together in a very slight way that produces small divots in his forehead that Bucky desperately wants to map and memorize. 

“Do you know what a UIB is?” Steve’s confused expression doesn’t change, it just deepens. “UIB stands for a thing, really a rare thing called an ‘Unconscious Immediate Bond’. Do you know that?” Steve’s face lights up with pup like excitement but he shakes his head. It makes Bucky laugh, well, if he’s honest with himself he giggles but. Specifics aren’t important. 

“I can guess” Steve starts, “but I think I would prefer knowing. What is it? And are you sure it’s real, you keep putting it in air quotes.” He chuckles a bit, fighting off a few coughs in the process. 

“An ‘Unconscious Immediate Bond’-” he pauses to collect himself, “sorry. A UIB is also known as a ‘perfect match’ or ‘soulmate bond’ and-” Steve cuts him off with a happy rumble after he states (using air quotes because those two things are not the real words for the thing they are currently experiencing) the second informal name for a UIB. 

“I know what a soulmate bond is- is that not what it’s really called? Is it really a UI-what’s it?”

“UIB.”

“Yeah, UIB, is that like the proper medical term?”

“Technically it’s the proper psychology term but, yeah. Any of those work but only the UIB is proper I guess- the other two were popularized as different things that they thought could happen between bonded pairs in the seventies and eighties. With time they evolved as such common slang for UIB that they’re synonymous now.” Curious he adds after a second, “what do you consider a soulmate bond then? So we can be on the same page.” 

“I dunno- my ma.” He pauses, sending ripples of sadness through the surface of their pond and over to Bucky. He squeezes their still attached hands, it’s enough reassurance to get Steve to continue talking. “My ma said her and pa were soulmates, soulmate bonded, but he died before I was born so…” He shrugs, not feeling sad or anything. Not from what Bucky can feel. Just indifferent- Bucky doesn’t blame him. “She always said it was like having a part of her head in his and vice versa. Like- like that thing you do as a kid where you attach to cups via one string and talk through it. That and she also claimed that she was made for him and he for her, but not in a way where they couldn’t be whole by themselves- if that makes sense?” 

Bucky nods, warming as Steve rubs his thumb over the back of his hand. 

“That’s a good explanation, I don’t know if the medical explanation would add anything.” 

“Tell me anyway, yeah?”

“Unconscious Immediate Bonding is super super rare, it’s only something that’s been found in alpha omega pairs. And not even, in the grand scheme of things, common among that subset of the population. The accepted percentage of alpha omega pairs that experience a UIB from the last widespread survey psychologists did was only zero point three percent.”

Steve cuts in when he drifts off, not really knowing where to go seeing as he gets caught up in the logistics of their luck. “It’s that rare, huh?” He confirms with a nod that brings out a lopsided smirk from the alpha in front of him. “Ma always said every long term bonded pair had it.” 

Shrugging he goes back into his reciprocated rant, “she wouldn’t be wrong if you think about what it meant ten, twenty years ago. Soulmate bonds to a lot of older generations is just love. Even if she was super up to date on medical research and theories she was probably just trying to install hope in her pup.” He just breathes for a minute or so, “UIB just makes a stronger instantaneous bond, hence the name. It basically does all the same things that a mild bond formed through a bite mark would without the normally required biting. In pairs that do end up bonding in the traditional thinking of it- you know the puncturing of the scent glands at the neck that tell your brain that that person is yours and yours exclusively -end up with an impossibly strong bond. Supposedly it, on a numerical scale that’s supposed to represent an emotion range, increases the effects of a bond on the body by about sixty to ninety percent.” 

Steve punctuates his verbal essay by kissing him. Pressing his lips softly and chastly to Bucky’s. 

He makes soft surprised noise before melting into it with a purr. A purr that surprises Bucky in a way that would usually would make him sink into his knowledge of the mind and how it’s a ridiculously big deal for an alpha or beta to get their omega to purr but his mind whites out. Focusing completely on the kiss. 

“Can I get your number then?” Steve speaks, their lips brushing still. And Bucky can’t even be ashamed to admit that he giggles at that.


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's day at work has him yearning to see Steve, so they adjust the time of their first date to see each other sooner.

Bucky swears over the next three days his eyes never leave his phone. 

He’s constantly receiving texts from Steve it seems, making his heart pound and stomach clench excessively each time. No matter how many times previously Bucky has gotten a text. Or a picture. Everytime is better than the last, no matter how poor his mood was beforehand Steve just seems to know exactly what he needs even when Bucky himself doesn’t. Steve also seems to really like sending pictures- he does it almost as much as he sends regular old text texts. It’s nice. It makes Bucky’s scent flare with sweetness that his coworkers pick up on mortifyingly easily. 

Today especially his coworkers seem to be nosy. Teasing even, probably more than that too making comments that sometimes he hears and sometimes he just sees the side glances.

Seeing as Steve’s still on the metaphorical bench because of his smoke inhalation he will just text Bucky whenever he feels like it. Which never could be a bad thing but it gets him in trouble more than he thinks possible during work- never when he’s with a patient (he’s not that dumb) but when he’s walking to see another or when he’s coming from break or going to break or… well, yeah, let’s just say it’s a miracle that he doesn’t walk into /that many/ walls. That and how when he does walk into things he doesn’t end up breaking his nose. 

Once, while he’s trying his hardest to come up with a response that will match Steve’s in pure hilarity and accompanying sweetness, he walks directly into the dean of medicine. Peggy Carter. The most alpha person one will ever meet despite the fact that she’s really a beta, she just knows precisely how to get her way and what way is the best (meaning it’s always her way).

His eyes shoot wide with anxiety and just plain old fear when he does. He swallows, finding himself being more positive than he normally would because of his good mood while also vaguely cowarring at the voice growing in the back of his head with every misplaced comment- at least neither of them had been carrying a drink or food that could ruin the other person’s clothing. A shame that would be too seeing as she’s wearing a very pretty black pencil skirt with an eye-catching red top. Bucky envies that she gets to wear whatever clothes she pleases while he’s stuck in the regulation rough scrubs. 

Small victories, he thinks away.

She scolds him, naturally, but doesn’t have much merit in telling him off seeing as he’s trying to leave rather than being on the clock and being so distracted. She does however tilt her head to the side and sniff him discreetly, a fox-like smirk spreading over her appropriately red (not too deep of a shade, not suggestive or distracting because she’s a professional) lips when she finds whatever it is in his smell. He reminds himself she’s only a beta so her sense of smell isn’t all that robust but at that moment Bucky knows that look- it’s one that will forever intimidate him and never hold a candle to any alpha using their /voice/ on him to get what they want. 

He feels like he’s a naughty pup under the gaze of the principle. 

“James,” she begins, her voice brisk with just the perfect amount of casual interest and authority. “What has your nose so far in your phone? Have you met someone?” Bucky wants to whine with her guess. How the /hell/ does everyone know? Will Steve know whatever they know when they meet up later tonight? What do they even know? Is he always this obvious when he meets people? If so, why hasn’t this ever happened before?”

“James?” 

Right. A question was asked, “yeah, but- uh, it won’t get in the way of my work Ms. Carter. I know I can’t have my phone with me during rounds.” He feels shame curdle in his gut at the lie but swallows it down. Gritting his teeth.

“Oh I don’t doubt that you do know that. Forgive me for insinuating such an idea, you have a pleasing record of doing your job and doing it above expectations. I don’t suspect this will get in your way but do be careful.” 

“Careful?” Bucky parrots, his mind glazing over her compliments in search of answers to her vague warning. It seems like even meeting his perfect ma- even meeting a very sweet alpha won’t change his anxiety fueled pessimism.

“Whoever you’ve meant has you so happy so quickly it could be a form of a UIB, you know. Simply because you have a connection right away doesn’t warrant diving in without looking. You don’t want to end up at the bottom of the pool without having anyone to help you swim back up to the surface.” She smiles apologetically then, patting his shoulder as she leaves. The click-clacks of her heels echoing in Bucky’s mind right along with her words. 

For a moment he just stands there, phone in hand, his reply half typed and waiting patiently. 

He did see the dean the afternoon of last friday a few meager hours before Steve walked his stubborn ass into the ER then the adjacent afternoon- which checks off how she knows how quickly the relationship between himself and Steve has developed. Although how could she tell that they had an Unconscious Immediate Bond? He isn't sure. He doesn’t remember- oh. 

UIB couples scents tend to mingle and merge much sooner than regular couples do… though that still doesn’t make sense? He’s seen Steve exactly once, here in the ER. How could anyone smell Steve on him already? Maybe- maybe the smoke that Steve has smelled of was strong enough to cling to him through three showers (not likely but possible)? He can’t smell it on himself but that doesn’t mean it’s not there he supposes. 

The metaphor about the pool is clear as water. It makes sense- just because biologically two people fit together it doesn’t mean that they’ll fit together as people. But, in theory, if they do have a true UIB then they will fit together. No matter what. There's a reason the other ways the connection is referred to revolves around ‘perfect’ and ‘soulmates’. But… what if that’s not it. Psychology is very good at making predictions but it’s not a perfect science and, and UIBs are still considered a theory.

A flash of panic rockets through Bucky. He whines quietly. 

Hopefully to himself, but, in case his little outburst wasn’t that little, he speedwalks out of the building keeping his rapidly misting eyes trained exclusively on his feet. Praying to any deity (none of which he believes in) that no one heard or saw that. Then he’d really be the talk of the hospital. ‘Did you see Bucky whine like a pup and then storm out just because the dean complimented him then warned- not even insult -his relationship? Pathetic.’

He stops when he gets to the parking lot, bottom lip trembling as he searches the space to ensure that he’s completely alone. 

When he knows he is he takes in a deep breath that’s too whiney for his liking. Rubbing the bottom of his throat he subconsciously makes sure his airways aren’t closing which just makes him feel more stupid. More helpless and needy. There’s nothing wrong he’s just… just too dumb to control his emotions more and to not get so attached as a result. Bucky tugs at his ponytail defiantly, deflating as his hair falls down around his face. Curtaining him from the rest of the world, feeling smaller. 

Then he’s laughing at himself, feeling pathetic and unwarrantedly bitter. Peggy’s comment shouldn’t be getting to him. Neither should any of the others. But smash them together and it’s overwhelming and he feels like no one wants him to be so attached so fast- no one wants him to be with Steve. To be happy. 

And it doesn’t make sense. 

Bucky’s rational, logical, sensible, and not controlled by his emotions. So why- why do all these tiny harmless things make his heart ache? He curses their UIB that’s rapidly solidifying as one hundred percent fact in his head. There’s no other reason for his reaction. There can’t be. He was so so- he chews at his lip, cursing it for trembling in a way that involuntarily is beginning to make the tears in his eyes swell.

Bzzz. Bzzz.

Bucky’s cut off by his own phone, a life raft thrown into his sea of overthinking, vibrating in his right hand to remind him of his unfinished conversation. Shoving his hands through his thick hair with an exhale of breath meant to calm him, he types out his passcode, navigating his way through his phone mindlessly. Going through with the momentous task of emptying his head of all the shit, or as much as he can banish (spoiler: it’s not much), preparing to lose himself in his alpha’s charm. To see whatever simple yet breathtaking text or photo he’s been sent from his alpha.

He doesn’t even bother to correct his internal monologue, slipping twice in calling his newfound love interest ‘his’ which is archaic and possessive and way too fast. It’s too soothing to do anything about right now edging towards a panic attack. He’s exhausted. He’ll make sure to figure out something to remedy it later- once he’s slept for like fourteen fucking hours at least. Thumbing the messenger app Bucky chews his bottom lip like it’s a stress ball (one that’s no longer trembling… again, small victories). 

Bzzz. Bzzz.

/Are you okay?/ Is the first message; short, sweet and undeniably caring. Sweet enough it makes the omega’s teeth ache. 

/Bucky? I can feel that you’re like off? I don’t know if that’s part of the UIB we talked about but I just want to know that you’re not hurt, you don’t have to tell me details if you don’t want to./ The most recent message has Bucky hearing the words in Steve’s voice. It’s nice. Nicer than it should be. His throat runs dry and feels like it’s closing once more but this time it’s different. It’s good. His alpha cares for him enough to be scared for him. He’s a good protector, a provider the omega’s instincts whisper. Good at soothing, would be good at soothing a pup. From a tiny scrape, a nightmare, a- 

Bucky hits call impulsively. 

He calls his alpha with having absolutely no plan of what he’s going to say to Steve like he normally has to prepare on account of his anxiety, a habit he even practices with calling his parents. He just wants- what does he want? 

“Bucky, hi…” Steve's voice is nice, smoother than it had been on friday but still that gorgeous, shiver-inducing deep tamber. Bucky breathes out. Feeling as if his lungs empty and refill themselves properly for the first time within the last ten minutes, maybe for the first time since he got into work. Steve makes a soft “oh” sound over the line- feeling how much his omega relaxes upon hearing his voice. His instincts howl in response, drawing a little rumble out of his chest. 

“Steve-” Bucky starts, having zero clue about where his brain is going to take that. He just needs to say it he supposes. 

“You’re not hurt are you Bucky?”   
“No!” Bucky offers sharper than he intends, he winces, his nose scrunching up in displeasure of accidentally worrying then yelling at his alpha. Steve- ever the perfect alpha and more importantly the perfect man doesn’t do anything, not in the way that he’s beginning to give Bucky the silent treatment but in the way that Bucky knows he’s giving him time to put his thoughts together. He breathes out again, revelling in the air that rushes out of his lungs to just be replaced by more. 

“Are you not physically hurt?” Steve rephrases his question carefully.

“Yeah- I just… Just. Work sucks today I guess.” He lands on, not really having the energy to explain himself when he hasn’t even really figured it out yet to begin with. 

“How much suck was there for you today?” 

Bucky barks out a laugh, his nose starting to run from out of nowhere and his already teary eyes spilling with the force of the muscles surrounding his eyes squeezing. Then he just kind of can’t stop. And it should be embarrassing and it is. Mortifying even. Crying and laughing helplessly over a joke that wasn’t really even meant to be one while his alpha can hear him. 

He’s still curtained by his hair, bless life’s small mercies, so anyone who’s passing by won’t see the tears and snot and laughter. Instead they’ll just hear his laughter which isn’t bad but Steve can probably hear him sniffling and the hitches of breath that are consistent symptoms of a nervous breakdown that anyone can point out- especially a first responder. 

By the time he’s done he’s wiping at his nose with the back of his hand like a fucking third grader and choking out a little, “like a one to ten scale of how bad my day was?” 

“Ah, so he can speak.” Steve’s voice is amused, not disgusted. A small victory indeed. He would wallow in his own pity for mouths, he’s sure, if he scared away Steve before he even had him. “Yeah a scale of suck- one being a good day and, well, you’re smart you don’t need me to explain the rest of that.” 

Bucky blushes like the hot mess he is at the compliment, his brain reeling with a hormone thunderstorm having gone from overworked and lonely and needy and worried and- he stops himself from going back to that part of the weather pattern in his mind. Staying on the sunny, warm, golden side that has Steve’s voice. He thinks for a second, humming to let the alpha know that he’s still here. 

“I don’t know like a-”

“You know,” Steve encourages. “Doesn’t matter if just one big thing made it suck or if it was a thousand tiny things, hell, even if it was one tiny thing. How much did your day suck?” 

Bucky sighs, lips quirking at the low hum he hears in response, “seven and a half.” He tries to joke when he opens his mouth again but it just comes out sour and shaky, “bet you just can’t wait to see what a ten is like then, huh?” 

Steve immediately growls. A low, displeased sound that shocks Bucky but before his mind can twist the noise into one that means he’s done everything wrong his alpha is explaining his actions in a patient tone that Bucky wants to roll around in and then cocoon himself in. 

“No, hun,” Bucky very nearly squeals at the pet name, “I can wait. Not because I don’t want to, well, I know you’re thinking I’m not going to want you when you’re at a ten. But I can wait all my life to see you at a ten because I want you to be happy, which does not mean I won’t, like, put up with you when you’re having a bad day. I will, I always will. If you’re my omega I want you to have and find comfort in me.” 

“Oh.” Bucky processes the soul-steering speech slowly, more tears bubbling out of him for a new reason. A fantastic reason.

“I want that.” Bucky adds timidly, hoping Steve knows what he means because he might fully start sobbing in the middle of an abandoned parking lot if he does have to go into detail. Steve’s silent on the other end of line, other than his rhythmic breathing, but Bucky can /feel/ him nodding. Agreeing and knowing exactly what Bucky means. His hindbrain lights up with good, pretty feelings so he purrs. Letting Steve know just how affected he is, how good of an alpha he is. 

Bucky then feels Steve’s reaction as much as he hears it. The alpha’s shock and wonderment at making his omega purr. Purring being something rare, something not even all omega’s can do but definitely not something they can’t do on command. It’s something that typically a mate has to pull out of them or possibly a family member or the impossible rarity a very close friend or packmate can make them do it. However, in most cases when mates make their omega purr it’s something that takes time. It’s based on trust and time… 

The brunette omega feels the swelling, overwhelming feelings his involuntary reaction gives Steve but what might be better is the impulsive words it pulls from him, “come over early. I know we agreed on eight thirty because of your shift and it’s two hours before then but… yeah. Please? I’ll pick you up if you’ll let me.” 

Bucky grins, “yeah- yeah, we can do that. Please, I’ll text you my location.”


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Bucky make it back to Steve's apartment and end up having a talk before dinner.

Steve arrives to pick Bucky up within twenty minutes, his car pulling up to the curb and shutting off. The alpha gets out of the drivers side, trying and massively failing to contain the smile he’s sporting. He’s dressed smartly, despite the fact that he hasn’t had to go into work for the three days. A worn in warm brown leather jacket squaring out his already grand shoulders and falling to his trim waist, his chest is covered by a thin light grey shirt that’s unfairly tight, demanding all of Bucky’s attention from the way it hugs the cuts of his muscles. Bucky notices that his belt matches his jacket because /of course/. His black jeans follow the trend his shirt sets, clinging to his mile long legs. 

Bucky finally gets his eyes back up to Steve’s face and feels underdressed and under- well, he feels like he isn’t quite sure why the hell biology would pair them of all people. His alpha is breathtaking even without charcoal and ash obscuring his features, his jaw sharp as well as his cheekbones. The blonde’s hair is swept back in such an effortless way it should be illegal, the sides are shorter than Bucky remembers but it makes sense considering Steve had texted him a picture of clumps of his hair on the floor with the caption /hope you’ll like the new look/ with a winky face, though the relaxed waves atop his head look to have been left untouched. It does look good. 

“Buck” the alpha calls, apparently having had enough of Bucky’s window shopping, stepping forward carefully. The omega steps forward regardless of his feelings of inadequacy, after all the man did come and get him just because he knew that he wasn’t having the greatest of days and doesn’t seem to care one bit about that. Plus he’s pleased that Steve doesn’t fit any of the patterns he’s seen and experienced with dating other alpha’s (a reason why since graduating he has only dated betas or (once really) other omega’s). Normally, simply because of the way people are treated after coming into their second gender, he’s found that alpha’s will push physical contact onto him because of the stereotypes of omega’s being mushy, needy, cuddly things that aren’t used for much else. 

Steve however, waits for him, searching for cues in his body language before acting on anything. 

This time Bucky doesn’t really feel like dancing around whether or not they should be touching so he just walks his strangely emotional ass over to Steve, planting his feet in front of the alpha and asking if he can have a hug. 

Steve’s smile is warm and unhesitant, “o’ course Buck” he promises softly. Pulling Bucky’s shorter and slimmer frame into his without effort, pressing them together from chest to knees. Bucky sighs, nestling his head into the crook of Steve’s neck and shoulder that he’s the perfect height (if he gets on his tiptoes that is) for, letting his nose just barely brush the scent glands on the side of the blonde’s neck. The motion makes Steve squeeze him tighter and in turn pulls a bit of a giggle from the short of the two. 

“You still wanna come back with me and... or I can drive you to your place? No pressure- I mean you obviously know what I would prefer but it’s always gonna be up to you.” Steve speaks and Bucky realizes how tired he is. Having his chest slightly rise and fall with his breathing has the brunette’s eyes yearning to fall shut, that and just being pressed to Steve who’s very human and very warm. 

He shakes himself, pulling away from Steve for fear of actually falling asleep with a yawn, “no I’d still like to go to your apartment I just-” he cuts himself off with another yawn that he attempts to hide in Steve’s chest. Steve makes a soft, deep noise in the back of his throat. “I’m clearly tired,” he laughs a little at himself. “It might not end up being a date but just me sleeping on your couch while you watch movies.” 

Steve grins, crouching a small bit and tilting his head so he can rub his nose against Bucky’s, “that’s still a date in my book. Besides, most people wouldn’t consider getting takeout at home a date anyway.” 

“I guess you're right,” Bucky adds dramatically, like it’s immensely difficult for him to admit that fact. 

So Steve basically sweeps him off his feet and gets him into his car, what he does in truth is practically the same anyway. Taking Bucky’s work bag for him as if it’s some incredibly heavy suitcase (it’s not, it just has the clothes he came to work in, his keys, his water bottle, and his wallet) and puts it in the backseat using an amusing amount of care before opening the passenger door for him to climb in. He even shuts it behind him. 

On the way over to his place they chat and listen to the radio because “I’m the GPS and driver now so I /have/ to make you do something, right? Humor me and be my DJ.” So he does humor him, would happily do more than that and shuffles through the stations. 

Bucky learns that Steve did indeed grow up here in Brooklyn (unlike Bucky- he’s from NYC originally) and hasn’t just adapted his speech to sound like it after being surrounded by it. Also that not working is driving him insane- which explains the amount of texts he’s been getting. 

Steve tells him that he’s an only child compared to Bucky who’s got a younger sister but that both of them similarly grew up without fathers. Steve’s didn’t leave, but rather died before he was born (he wasn’t a firefighter but an EMT) and Bucky tells him about how he doesn’t remember his dad but knows that he left his mom because she told him to. He was always a mean drunk (his mom, bless her, tried desperately to change that) but it got worse as Bucky grew. ‘The man wasn’t fit for children’ as his mom said once he was old enough to ask. 

Once Bucky offers what his mom told him of his dad Steve goes quiet, the brunette barely even wonders why before remembering their first conversation at the hospital and the similar reaction to his “ma” coming up. Just as he had started to speak, to tell Steve he didn’t owe Bucky any knowledge of his mother Steve pipes up. 

He takes his eyes off the road for a fraction of a second, turning to look at Bucky and smile dorkily, he tells Bucky that if he would’ve met his ma he would’ve wondered if he was just a clone. The omega snorts indecently, making a joke about asexual reproduction that has Steve praising his ninth grade biology teacher for making sure he could understand that reference. It’s enough to send Bucky off again.

He ends up leaning his full weight back onto the back of his seat when he’s done, flopping his head to the side so he can examine Steve’s profile with aching cheeks and little giggles still finding their way out of his lips. He stays like that until his alpha parks the car. 

Admiring him right up until he speaks, “we’re here. Change your mind yet?”

They lock eyes, deep blue and pale blue colliding, shivers claiming them both and adding significantly to the moment. Bucky wills his limbs to move but he’s pinned while also being magnetized to Steve, like the alpha has his own gravitational field. Steve seems to be in a similar predicament. 

Neither of them will ever be sure who closes in first but it doesn’t matter, not when they both seem to just materialize in one another's space so that they’re breathing the same air and barely an inch apart.

Then the spell is broken by Steve, who’s huge hands both come up and cup his omega’s cheeks softly, the calluses painting his fingers and palms brushing the gorgeous flushed skin of Bucky’s face and with a single spare glance down to his perfectly pouty lips they’re connecting. Bucky sighing under the simple kiss- just their lips pressed together. His brain melting and dripping down his spine when Steve’s tongue brushes the seam of his lips. Asking- just like he always does -for permission that Bucky hands off like a baton in a relay race. 

Eagerly their tongues become acquainted, sliding against one another easily like dance partners. Steve makes a sound into the kiss and Bucky swallows it then returns a noise of his own. Enjoying the pressure of their lips together and the hot wash of just /Steve/ over him- even if they are separated to their own seats because they are still in the car. 

Pulling back Bucky accidentally lets a little “wow” go from out of his mouth. He turns even redder. But so does Steve, so what does it matter? 

“Bathrooms down the hall that way,” Steve gestures wildly at the very obvious way he’s being told to go just to hear Bucky crack up. “It’s the second to last door on the left. I’ll be out here when you’re done.” He adds with a kiss and a hopefully discrete inhale of the very happy scent radiating off of his omega. Although he immediately discovers he definitely isn’t sneaky about it when Bucky turns and rubs his nose over Steve's scent gland in a blatant show of smelling him, throwing up an eyebrow in the process. 

Steve meanders over to the kitchen while whistling, carefree, secretly smiling to all his appliances. He feels like he’s high, flying on feel-good hormones and the sugary smells coming from his omega. The omega, he reminds himself. Bucky isn’t his. 

Not yet but- one day. Hopefully. 

Steve waits until he hears the shower start to pull out the pre-prepped vegetables and meat that he chopped this afternoon for their dinner. Which will be Stir Fry because Bucky had said that he likes that, that strangely enough it’s one of his favorite dishes. Steve agrees, most people like fancy things- sushi, steak, caviar, etc. but nope, his omega likes the simple things. Rice, chicken, and vegetables with sauce. 

He hums as he cooks, thoughts dancing to the beat and entirely consumed by the lovely creature in his bathroom. 

Bucky doesn’t wash his hair, not that he thinks that Steve would mind if he did but he intends on cuddling with him on the couch and he doesn’t want to get his clothes or his skin wet with his hair so he doesn’t. He just throws it into a higher, much messier ponytail before stepping into the shower. Which is huge by the way. With glass doors and pristine white tiling and /two/ showerheads that spray seemingly excessive amounts of toe curling hot water. 

He sighs, enjoying getting clean in his alpha’s shower much more than he usually enjoys his post-shift shower (which is saying A LOT because sometimes he fantasizes about showering mid shift). Washing himself clean of any leftover fluids that might’ve leaked through his scrubs, Bucky can’t help but tiredly smile to himself and the tiles and glass. This will be good. It won’t matter if Steve spills their dinner on him because this is good, will be good. It has to be. Bucky can practically taste it. 

Mourning the loss of heat as he steps from the shower’s cradle the brunette omega dries himself. Battling with the insanely fluffy and thick towel Steve had told him to use. Huffing out a breath as he knocks the entire stack over somehow, he starts to bend over but nearly falls. Okay- he’s way more tired than he thought he was. 

The ritual of drying off, brushing his hair, and changing into his street clothes (which is not the outfit he was going to wear to their date but the ones he wore to work this morning) takes place in a murky version of Steve’s bathroom because his eyes keep partially shutting. He pulls on his worn light bluish-white jeans that aren’t the skinniest fit he owns but definitely not the sweatpants fit he currently is yearning for and thanks his past self for pairing them with a dark grey sweater. It’s comfy enough, he decides, not putting on the black shirt he had worn under the sweater. And he nearly falls asleep right there- sitting on the toilet -when he pauses to put on his socks. Instead though he steels himself to stand and futz with his hair more.  
He doesn’t do much with it. He can’t, not really, because Steve doesn’t own a hairbrush, apparently just a black sturdy looking comb. He does what he can with that willing his unruly thick hair to not snap any of the teeth on it. 

The brunette ends up just placing back into a messy bun that’s not resting on his neck nor is it on the top of his head simply in the middle of those two because he doesn’t want to deal with it, not caring enough to wrangle the stray strands that escape his grasp around the nape of his neck and along his forehead and letting them be. Hoping Steve likes the look in the same way others have in the past. 

He then folds his scrubs and places them in the specific compartment of his bag where he always does- he’ll wash them when he gets home. Making sure, once more, that he’s gathered all his things he spins in the doorway. Giving the room a once over and then padding out, intending to find Steve and drag him to his couch. 

Steve is in the kitchen, leaning over the breakfast bar and looking through something on his laptop, his head swings up gracefully to meet Bucky’s eyes. Having heard him coming. His eyes widen at the same time his lips part. 

Bucky shifts his weight from foot to foot, nervous. 

Then he’s hit with Steve’s inner thoughts and feelings, the string between them snapping taunt in a way that’s got Bucky gasping. Awe. That’s the only way to describe what Steve’s feeling. It’s weak- the impulsive way he can sense what Steve’s thinking and experiencing -compared to how he’s heard an actual bond feels but it’s there. Sure and consistent like a pulse, a promise of more. 

The closer Steve gets to him the stronger the waves of feelings become, by the time they’re chest to chest (or as close as they can get with the roughly seven inch difference in heights) Bucky’s boat is rocking on the surface of their shared lake. Shared bond. 

Steve’s mind is racing, he wants to touch Bucky badly- no he wants to hold, to cradle him. Bucky can see the way Steve’s face has loosened, softened and he can see the way his eyes are trying to take in him all at once but he can /feel/ the awe and appreciation bordering on worshipful racing through him. 

He likes the way he looks, Bucky thinks, suddenly giddy off of it. 

His energy and surprise ignites Steve. His hands coming to life and hovering over his hips, a question hanging in the air between them. Bucky nods, leaning forward and up to connect their lips. Steve sighs, sounding relieved with finally being able to touch him, his hands flowing like the stream of water had in the shower, wholly encompassing his frame in brushing sweeps that are gentle and sweet enough to taste. The only thing that Bucky can register from Steve’s side is a word. 

Mine.

Bucky purrs again, the sound amplified in the cavern of their connected mouths, helpless to the overwhelming feeling of want and agreement pulsing through him. He couldn’t stop the submissive noise from bubbling out of him if he wanted to. It’s instinctual, primal in his need to tell his alpha that that’s what he wants without speaking. 

Steve pulls back, one hand finally becoming stationary where it cups the back of his neck. Cradling his head in it’s hold. The other still sweeps over his body in a mindless pattern from shoulder blade to rib to hip and back again. It’s nice. Making his sweater warm with friction and shift to expose the skin of his lower belly. He purrs once more. Wondering, faintly compared to the loud pleased hum of his hindbrain, if it’s normal for someone he just met to make him purr this much. Typically it takes years, not days, for an omega to be comfortable enough to purr instinctually at their mate. 

Although Bucky has exactly zero interest in pursuing that train of thought when Steve noses his cheek and whispers in a bass-y tone “I love that noise, ‘s so sweet. Love that I can make you do it.” 

Bucky flushes, nodding and placing a kiss directly on the scent gland on Steve’s neck. Smiling into it uncontrollably. “What movies are we watching?” He asks, directing his alpha’s attention away from himself before he starts squirming. 

Steve darkly hums, his chest vibrating slightly under the hand Bucky has on him, his lips brush his temple, “whatever ones you want to.” 

Just as he goes to answer a yawn interrupts him, making the alpha in front of him chuckle. “Maybe not action then?” He teases before adding, “go sit on the couch, I’ll be there in a second just gotta do something first for dinner then we can start the movies but you should pick one while you wait.” He gives the sleepy omega his laptop, that already has Netflix pulled up, and spins him so he’s facing the living room. Bucky nods a little dumbly, perfectly content to follow his instructions for the moment. 

Steve fights to not watch the adorable brunette go, with his messy but perfect hair that’s up and out of his face and his too big sweater that makes him look even smaller and the pretty jeans that look like they’ve been well loved. Worn in the knees so that they have holes from actual use instead of the store. It all makes him look much younger than his twenty four years, and smaller. Much smaller than his apparent five foot seven frame. 

He looks like he’s at home Steve realizes. 

He likes that. He likes that his future mate is at home here, here in his home. Maybe their home if all things go well. Though it’s not as if Steve would be opposed to moving into Bucky’s apartment but, well, he has yet to see his place so it’s easier to imagine it with him living here. 

Bucky opens his eyes. Never having registered them closing in the first place. 

He’s still on Steve’s couch but now he’s curled into the mentioned alpha’s side. Either put there by Steve himself or dragged unconsciously by his hindbrain, whatever the reason he snuggles closer. Steve’s sitting on the couch like a normal human whereas Bucky’s folded his legs so that he’s in a sort of fetal position while his head is tucked into Steve’s shoulder. The other man’s arm is thrown over his shoulders as if he’s trying to make sure he stays near.

It’s good. Vaguely possessive in a way that makes him feel safer. 

Steve jumps just as he turns his head, a small alarm going off from somewhere in the kitchen. Bucky stifles a laugh, thumping his head slightly into his solid form in teasing affection. Steve tells him to shut up playfully but kisses his head while he’s detangling himself from him. 

“Rice is ready,” he throws over his shoulder, waltzing into the kitchen. 

“Are we having rice?” Bucky acquires, confused and barely awake. Steve barks out a laugh from the kitchen, shamelessly joyful. 

“Yes. Yes I have cooked my omega just rice- nothing else.” He deadpans and Bucky is no longer half asleep. 

“Your omega?” He prompts, voice conveying his dopey happiness clear as day. His body moves on it’s own, making him turn full-bodied to watch Steve move about the kitchen- if he had dog ears they’d be perked and pointed entirely towards Steve. 

The alpha in question freezes, realizing his slip. Holding the pot of rice mid-air with no signs of putting it back down, his cheeks are ruddy and his eyes wide. Face stricken with fear. “That okay? I, I didn’t mean-” 

He sounds so vulnerable, as if he’s actually expecting Bucky to be mad or upset in any way. He returns the sentiment, voice softened so Steve can just barely make it out from across the room. “I just- you surprised me. That’s all, besides it’s not like I haven’t done that too...” he admits, eyes leaving Steve’s frame. 

Then it’s back in front of him. His feet having materialized in his field of vision in what feels like no time at all. 

Bucky can’t do anything to stop himself from looking up at his alpha.

“How so?” He smiles, shy. “You’ve told people about me.” 

“Don’t have to, everyone at work has been smelling it on me, but that’s besides the point. I, I’ve been saying it in my head. Referring to you as mine I mean.” 

“Oh.” He says, dumbstruck with Bucky’s comment. His eyes and emotions wild but pleased nonetheless. “People can smell it? Like they smelled me on you? How-”

“I have no idea. I think-” Bucky stops himself, cheeks heating under the intense wonder in Steve’s eyes. He feels like he might get cooked alive with how hot he feels, “I think they can smell how happy I’ve been. Relaxed too. Like earlier when I called you and you…” he trails off, unable to explain his own reaction. 

“Yeah.” Steve agrees. Absentmindedly scratching the back of his neck, “I like that I make you happy” he adds still spacing out slightly. “...like that I have that effect. You know what it felt like?” Tilting Bucky’s chin up just a bit with the tips of his fingers, sweet and yet dominant, masculine in a way that has Bucky’s hindbrain and regular mind both purring. 

He shakes his head. Holding his breath in anticipation. 

“Felt like I was a king, Buck. At first I felt helpless and a little confused because I didn’t realize just how, how intensely I’d be able to feel you without bonding you beforehand, y’know? Then when you called me I knew, well, I don’t know what I knew but it felt incredible. Knowing that my ‘mega would reach for me first… then when I said your name and all that stuff you and I were feeling left.” He lowers his voice to a whisper even though they’re alone and no one else would be able to hear them any how, “then I knew you were mine. That I was yours too. Felt like I could do anything, especially for you- it felt like I could- would” he corrects himself. “Like I would do anything to make sure you get everything you want and whatever you deserve.” 

They sit in perfect silence for who knows how long. Just staring at each other, not necessarily communicating through their UIB but just looking. 

“Ain’t that crazy, Buck? That I’ve just met you and I already know all that.”

Bucky nods enthusiastically as he can, biting down on his bottom lip and trying to not cry, no words coming because he’s got no breath left in his entire being. Finally he chokes out a little, “yeah. Me too.” Which doesn’t entirely make sense but Steve gets it so nothing matters. 

He seals the deal with a kiss, a breath of a thing, there and then gone.


	4. IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continuation of Bucky and Steve's stay-at-home date. Now including more awkward sexual tension and clueless Steve!

The rest of the evening goes perfect, better than Bucky could’ve ever imagined despite having envisioned what he thought was perfection. Steve makes Bucky shout details about the film that’s playing on the TV screen, which is connected to his alpha’s laptop, it makes him feel a little silly because he doesn’t even know what’s going on seeing as he fell asleep before it even started. But Steve’s invested in the story so he does it. True to his earlier teasing it’s not an action movie but instead some mystery that surprisingly doesn’t, yet, involve murder. 

He’s plating their dinner so he can’t watch- which Bucky’s shocked and delighted to learn is actually stir fry (a.k.a. his actual favorite dish despite it not being the one he usually tells people. He’s quite aware that it’s an odd choice but Steve had said his favorite was lasagna so he’d just gone with the truth). He informs Bucky that he cooked the veggies and chicken while he showered but hadn’t precooked the rice like he planned to.

The movie's credits start to roll just after Steve announces that dinner’s ready to be (in his own words) “consumed”. Bucky snorts, rolling his eyes asking if he wants him to start the next movie in the queue. 

“What’s it called?”

“Uhhh, “Paper Towns”,” he shoots back at Steve, tossing his head back to see his reaction (even if his face is now upside down from his point of view). He hums, pleased with the name Bucky figures. 

“Have you seen it? Or read the book it’s based on?” 

“No, there’s a book?” 

“I assume so- I think I read one titled that in high school. It was a good read, good enough I can’t see how anything based on it could be that bad.” He continues, walking back over with both plates of food in hand, “it’s about this girl who’s all mysterious and disappears every once in a while. She always comes back though. The guy, whose point of view the whole book is based on, admires her but is too- too..? Well, he thinks she’s too cool for him until just before they graduate high school- they’ve been living in the same neighbouring houses most of their lives -she asks to borrow his mom’s car. The rest of the plot I think would qualify as spoilers? If it is based off of that book anyhow.” 

Bucky nods and hums at the places where he feels the need to input something to his speech, enjoying staring at the blonde’s face while he speaks. His brows occasionally furrow when he fights to find a word that fits his sentence or when he tries to place a certain detail. Or how his mouth falls open a little when he pauses. His instincts make him feel like he’s glowing, whispering about how handsome and strong his alpha looks. Telling him to admire how good of an alpha he is. 

“Yeah,” he responds, voice roughened by his overactive mind. “That sounds good and this smells really good.” He praises, because it does smell good. Sweet in a familiar way, like- like… “Oh, is it teriyaki?!” 

Steve chuckles at his accidentally raised voice, his excitement of being able to place the smell bleeding clearly through in his tone. “Sure is? Do you like teriyaki, I mean you clearly know what it is ‘cause you just smelled it and- you did say you had an especially strong sense of smell I guess.” He cuts himself off with a comment that’s mostly meant to be kept in his head that comes out of his mouth anyway. 

Bucky nods, another strand of hair falling from his updo with the motion, “yeah. I never thought of using it in stir fry though.” 

“Well, you’re welcome then.” Steve teases as they dig in, moreso Bucky than Steve because he wants to see his omega’s reaction to his cooking more than he needs to eat at the moment, the trailers playing through on the TV. Bucky involuntarily lets out a moan when the flavor hits his tongue. 

Steve shifts in his seat. His mind dragging him down a gutter that’s more like a crevasse than anything. If he sounds like that just from eating how sweet would he sound when-

Their eyes lock, the hues of their eyes similar just like the blushes coloring their faces. Bucky’s being darker and spreading further but there is no denying that Steve’s is there. Bucky swallows needlessly, seeing as he already finished off his mouthful, licking his lips to catch some of the sauce in a way that isn’t meant to be suggestive but it has Steve’s hindbrain growling regardless. 

“It’s good.” Bucky chokes out thickly, his voice compact and breathy from embarrassment and- well, they are compatible so…

“Yeah.” Steve replies, clearing his throat “I, uhm, sorry. I didn’t mean to-” he waves his hand around his head as if apologizing for his thoughts. Bucky shrugs. 

“It’s not like you’re objectifying me or anything. You can’t help it and neither can I. It’s chemicals y’know? Not like you meant to do it or- well. You apologized when you didn’t need to so…” he struggles with how to finish. Willing away his semi and the potential of slicking up by focussing immensely on the task of talking. “I’m okay with it.” He punctuates the moment. 

It’s Steve’s turn then to nod wordlessly, tucking into his plate. Seemingly satisfied with what Bucky’s said, he turns back to the movie at that. Humming in thanks when Steve restarts the first portion that they missed through that whole debacle. 

They had sat through the movie, eating and passing comments between important scenes. Little jokes on Steve’s half- making Bucky choke once. Which in turn had his alpha freaking out and apologizing and rubbing his back until Bucky’s esophagus clear enough to laugh once more. Uncontrollably giggling for a stupid amount of time before setting himself and Steve off again when he made a comment about being a nurse and that if the situation came to that he could’ve just given himself the heimlich so Steve needn’t worry. 

They end up rewinding the movie after. Then doing it again and again throughout their meal. 

Bucky finishes first, grumbling slightly about following Steve’s instructions of putting it on the coffee table so he can deal with it later rather than getting up and washing it himself. Steve made dinner after all- it’s only fair if he washes up! His alpha just tuts at him, patting his thigh and telling him he doesn’t have to do any work tonight. Bucky pouts at him. Attempting to change the tides until Steve catches a glance at his face and rumbles out a sound that has Bucky melting. 

Steve leans in to kiss him so he can’t pout like that because it’s unfair. 

Steve tastes like their dinner and he’s sure he does as well but he chases the flavor anyway. Locking their lips and giving decidedly no fucks if they’re smearing sauce over each other's faces. 

They end up rewinding the film again. 

When Steve finishes he gets up to put their dishes in the sink so Bucky pauses the movie, courtesy is important after all. Bucky ends up watching about ten more minutes of the movie when he returns to cuddle more before passing out. Which he knows Steve doesn’t blame him for but if anyone was to they’d be wrong. He’s full of fantastic, unreal tasting food and he’s warm from his sweater plus body heat that’s not his and Steve’s chest is rising and falling in a fashion that’s practically rocking him to sleep. 

He wakes up a few times when Steve chuckles at something that’s in “Paper Towns” or whatever other movie has started because the room feels a lot darker when his eyes slide open just a sliver, he purrs, feeling the happy rumble of Steve’s laugh in his chest. Steve smells fantastic. And when he’s barely conscious he apparently is brash with just how much he likes it. 

Slurring, “smell niccce, alpha” just because he can, without recognizing how he refers to Steve. Like smoke- not gross chemical smelling smoke from house fires or burnt plastic or anything like that. More like campfire smoke, thick and sweet and natural. The smoke blends perfectly into spicy cinnamon that makes Bucky want to bake more and the ocean. Clean and refreshing yet offset perfectly by the darker smells of the spice and smoke. He smells better than anyone he’s ever met, he might tell Steve that but he isn’t quite sure when his head is full of static. 

He drops back into slumber for just a moment before hearing a pleased, deep “thanks, Buck.” 

He wiggles, pushing his head back into the warm palm atop his head and mumbles “like that. That ya gave m’ nickname a nickname.” He feels more than he hears Steve’s laughter and hears something that sounds like the nickname repeated as if he’s realizing what he’s done just now. Or maybe he calls Bucky cute- could be that too, he thinks immediately before he blacks out again. Returning to the realm of the unconscious. 

“Hey Buck, Bucky?” 

He hears his name from far away, like he’s underwater and the source of the noise is above it. Like when he was a pup and his mom would bathe him, singing while she washed his hair and promptly dunked his head underwater. His lips twitch on their own accord at the memory, this is kind like that. He’s warm, safe, and being talked to when he can’t really hear it. 

“Buck, my ‘mega, you up?” Bucky likes the way he says ‘omega’, skipping the ‘o’ with the drawl of his Brooklyn roots, he never wants to hear anyone else say it any other way ever again. “I know you’re awake, I can feel it.” He sign-songs, petting the back of his neck. 

Bucky hums as he lifts his head, having somehow gotten to sitting in Steve’s lap while asleep, his hands curled into loose fists between his own chest and his alpha’s. His sleepy grey-blue eyes searching Steve’s, “hmm?” being the only thing he can muster at the moment. 

Steve’s somehow, considering their size, elegantly dexterous hands undo his hair without looking. The tie coming loose and causing all his hair to cascade down, he shakes his head so that it’s not still collected in one place. Steve’s face scrunches up adorably when some of Bucky’s hair hits it but chuckles at his actions regardless. He figures his hair looks like a rat’s nest but Steve doesn’t mind if the expression on his face is anything to go by-

“You look great,” Steve murmurs either reading his mind or, “you said that out loud, silly.” Bucky puts his head back down on his chest, he’s too out of it for this.

Whining, “why did you wake me up? I’m dumb now.” 

Another punched out laugh comes from above him, “you’re not dumb- just tired,” he pokes Bucky in the side. “Maybe a little loopy though.” Bucky squawks at him, giggling just a touch and squirming in his lap. Steve soothes him, brushes his hand all the way through Bucky’s hair rather than just stroking back and forth carefully now that it’s down and he can. “I woke you up to ask if you wanted to stay over... to sleep. Nothing else.” 

“Couldn’t do anything else if we wanted to. Might fall asleep on you.” Steve cracks up, shocked at his nonchalance, squeezing Bucky’s sides as he laughs from his gut, shaking his head in disbelief. “Yeah, to that though… wanna stay here.” 

“I want that too.” Bucky gives him a look, “okay, fair. I did ask. I just wanted to preface what I’m gonna say with that. Uhm, you don’t, like, have work in the morning or anything though, right? ‘Cause I don’t wanna make you late or anything.” 

Bucky blinks a few times, taking in some breaths trying to wake himself up more to think. 

“No, I don’t have work in the morning. I work weird hours, y’know, emergency stuff.” Steve nods, probably thinking about his own hectic schedule, “but I work in five to six day increments with three-ish days between those chunks. Holidays and whatever possibly changing it but not usually.” He pauses to think, “this last set of shifts was an exception, eight days because one of the other regular ER nurses was out on her last week of maternity leave. I picked up three days of her shift because no one else could or wanted to.” 

Steve nods, following along easily and adding “so do you get extra time off for compensation or whatever?” Bucky tilts his head while listening, making his nod of agreement a bit difficult. 

“Yeah, I get saturday, sunday, monday, and tuesday off. Well, tuesday I have off so long as they don’t need a fuck ton of extra help because of some accident or something. The other days I’m off duty for those days.” 

“Even if an emergency arises?” Steve wonders aloud, his smile growing from content to mischievous. 

“Yeah, ‘code zero’ as the charge nurse- the person who runs the ER but not the rest of the hospital, that’s the dean of medicine’s job, who's the boss of the ‘charge nurse’. ‘Code zero’ just being the opposing thing to all other codes, y’know, blue, red, black, etc. We use colors in the ER, not numbers so she just uses it as slang for being off duty and unreachable even in emergencies.” 

Steve nods, “we just call that being benched… I’m benched.” He adds after a second, “and will be until at least next wednesday. At most the friday after that wednesday.” He lifts one of his hands from Bucky, waving it in a vague gesture, “y’know why, but that means we could do some more stuff together if you want to?” Bucky smiles, tucking his face back into Steve’s chest and kissing his pulse point as gently as possible in lue of an answer, the blonde sighs, his frame rising easily under Bucky. His voice is calm and steady, a little lazy too when he understands Bucky’s action, “ ‘kay, it’s a date then.” 

They sit in more easy silence, bathing in each other’s presence. 

“Bed?” Steve asks, voice breaking off into a low groan type of noise as he lets out his first yawn of the evening- or at least the first yawn that Bucky’s seen but then again he has been asleep for most of it. His hands come off of the omega’s lean body as if he’s releasing him.

“Please,” he answers, swinging one leg from bracketing Steve’s lap, dismounting as gracefully as he can. The moment makes him aware that he’s still in his jeans. Which he has a face for. Steve huffs a soft laugh out at him, his eyes lighting up behind the tired glaze as he pats the denim clad side of his thigh. 

“You want some sleep pants or..?” 

“You’re warm-” Bucky feels his traitorous cheeks heat with the blood that rushes into them, he continues shyly, “I think I’ll be okay. Will you?” Steve stands, taking the space next to him and heating the air between them- Bucky wouldn’t be entirely convinced he’s not running a mild fever from smoke inhalation if his lungs and voice didn’t sound so normal and clear. 

“Sorry- yeah, I run hot. You might have to either choose modesty or no blankets- or you don’t have to sleep in the bed with me! The couch is pretty comfy, I wouldn’t have a problem with taking it!” Bucky can hear the panic rising in Steve’s voice. The poor alpha thinks he’s forcing him into sleeping in a bed next to him but what he really can’t let go of is his word choice. 

Bucky blatantly drags his fingers down the top of his biceps, making a cartoon-like sizzling sound while looking deadpan at him, “modesty, are you kidding me?” 

Steve goes from kicked pup to goofy alpha in the span of like half a second or less, barking out a stunned laugh-attack and doubling over with the added comment. But he’s still touching the place on his shoulder, even when bent over, where Bucky had his hand as if the omega hasn’t been all over him all night. 

“I lost modesty when I /a/ called you while I was on the edge of losing my mind after work, then again when I /b/ moaned because your cooking is bomb, then when I /c/ climbed all over you and fell asleep… so there’s no need to worry.” He pauses making sure his stubborn alpha is listening before adding as an afterthought- “And I’ll have you know if you sleep on the couch I will last ten minutes alone in your room before I come and find you, so, there’s really only one choice right?” 

“Right.” Steve agrees, looking dazzled (like- the only way he could look more cartoonish would be if there were little white stars orbiting his head to indicate the impact) by his short rant. Bucky goes with his brash attitude, diving in full head and putting his arm out for Steve to link their arms as if they’re ballroom dancing rather than walking to his bedroom. Grinning toothily Steve takes his arm and leads him to the hall, keeping his head held high as if they really are the snooty couple going dancing in Bucky’s imagination. Bucky laughs, holding his other hand over his face mostly for show. His alpha is perfect. 

Steve insists that Bucky gets to use the bathroom first, indicating where the extra toothbrushes are kept and apologizing for only having a comb rather than a brush when he watches Bucky drag his hands through his hair in place of picking up the comb. Bucky shrugs and stares at him through the mirror until his hands raise, palm up in mock defence as he disappears back into the connected master bedroom.

Biting down on an obvious smile, Bucky asks the man in the other room if he can get his work bag back from the living room after a while, realizing he doesn’t have that black shirt under his sweater once more and hoping to not yet freak out his alpha with the mass of scars over his right shoulder. Not that he would, like, leave but- more so that Bucky knows it’s not pretty and not something he wants to think about right before bed because he’ll have nightmares easily that way. 

He shakes his head from where it hangs between his shoulders- his hair making boundaries at the edges of his vision, his hands poised on the counter where his eyes are focused -throwing the shadowy memories of the car crash away with the water-like movement of his hair. He inhales. Then exhales. Straightening up just as Steve returns, knocking his shoulder on the doorway and hissing in a perfectly smooth entrance. 

Bucky snorts, feeling better instantly, “thanks.” He changes from sweater to shirt and slips off his jeans and socks. Climbing into his alpha’s massive bed. Fighting tooth and nail to not roll around in the sheets that smell so strongly of Steve while he’s otherwise occupied in the bathroom. 

“Fine” he mumbles grouchily to himself, settling on scent marking the pillow he’ll be using for the night before his screaming instincts can provide him with a headache. The primal motion of swiping his wrists and neck over the fabric allowing a question to grow in the soil of his mind. He finishes his task, plucking the question out by the roots when Steve comes back into the room. 

“What do I-” Bucky’s mouth is suddenly devoid of any slight trace of saliva. His alpha is shirtless. His chest rumbles with a pleased noise that he doesn’t mean to make as his eyes slide wordlessly down his spectacular chest. The cuts of his pecs and abs and- oh /Jesus fucking Christ/ -the jut of the ‘v’ of his alpha’s hips. He then realizes with an unexpectedly hungry purr that he desperately tries to keep in his mouth that Steve is only wearing boxer briefs. 

“I, I…” Steve stutters, looking needlessly self-conscious. “I can wear a shirt if you’d rather I did but- sorry, fuck. I run hot. I didn’t think.” 

Bucky growls before he can stop himself. 

Steve’s eyes shoot right to his, locking on. Whatever the gorgeous alpha sees on his face is enough to make the tension leak from his body. One of his pecs twitching at the release of his muscles, it makes Bucky whimper and then gasp when he feels blood rush to his hole in preparation of producing slick. He clamps his legs together even tighter, swallowing the pitiful noise he wants to make. He doesn’t think he could be any redder- even if you painted him. 

“If you put a shirt on I’m not sure if I could forgive you.” He grits out, his brain entirely ignoring that Steve’s face is just as great as his body. Helpless against the dampness growing between his legs. 

Steve makes a noise, inching forward, “you smell different? Wh-” his face then looks as if it’s been painted pink. His nostrils flaring slightly. 

“Uhm.” Is all Bucky can offer, wondering how Steve can not immediately know that he smells different when aroused. His head tilts again, eyes finally making their way back up to Steve’s face. That’s something you learn in sex-ed or biology or just when you date som- “Have you ever dated an omega?” He blurts. 

Steve shakes his head, looking a second or two away from drooling if he keeps scenting the air. Bucky takes pity on him, focussing on explaining the answer to Steve’s question as he would in an exam room- sighing in relief when his scent tampers down. Steve growls deeply, then opens his mouth, then closes it. Clearly confused with his own reaction.

“So, I hope someone’s told you this before but- ugh, rather- no. I’m gonna assume you’ve dated beta’s then right?” Steve nods in confirmation, “they ever tell you you smell different when you uhm… got intimate?” Steve does the fish thing again with his mouth before choking out a small ‘yes’, Bucky continues. “Betas have much milder scents compared to omegas and alphas. And with that in mind if there was, let’s say- a scale? Of smells, one being extremely mild and ten being you can smell them from blocks away. Betas would be at one, alphas at five to seven or eight and omegas at eight to ten regularly. In heat some of them break the scale.” 

“Oh.” Steve offers, thinking over his words and making sense of them. “Got it.” He nods, blushing with understanding, “I didn’t realize that it was /that/ intense… but, yeah. Okay. There was something you were asking before I did, errr, that to you?” 

“Mmh, yeah, funnily enough I was going to ask you what to you I smell like? And come over here already.” Steve grins, sliding under the covers with a blast of room temperature air that’s forgivable because he also brings his fever-like heat. He pauses, hands outreached to Bucky with his eyebrows quirked in a way that’s a clear question. The omega scoots over to him, cozying himself in his hold. Steve’s breathing washes over him like a tide. 

“Uhm- you know you told me what I smell like to you when you were half asleep earlier?” Bucky feels a jolt of embarrassment thunder through his system, he’s always been a sleep-talker. Steve just squeezes him closer, continuing “you made it sound a lot better than most so don’t be upset. Most people say I smell like sweat and smoke.” Bucky snorts because it’s /way/ more, way /better/ than that. 

After a chunk of silence and some shifting to turn out the lights Steve has his thoughts together, “you smell really sweet. Like, like… sugar kind of? I mean, that doesn’t make sense but it’s like honeyed sugar and roses.” Steve rubs his nose carefully over Bucky’s temple and hair. “Like everything I’ve always liked.” He huffs amused breath out of his nose, sleepily and dorkily admitting “you’re the scented candle I’ve always wanted but never got because it wasn’t right. You’re right-” he yawns, pausing. “You’re perfect.” 

Bucky purrs happily, sliding into sleep not long after.


	5. V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Bucky have their first big misunderstanding the morning after Bucky stays the night.

Bucky wakes up easily, transitioning perfectly from a dead sleep to awake without the awful awakening then falling asleep, then back awake, back to sleeping, and so on. A dance he often does in his own bed. Here, in his alpha’s bed, he just floats into consciousness. No crashing into the ground before being pulled back into the air- just floating down on a cloud that sets him on the ground nice and easy. 

He knows that Steve’s still in the bed before he opens his eyes, he can feel the dip in the mattress without thinking, the other man’s weight significantly more than Bucky’s (if he had to put a number on it he’d say fifty to sixty pounds of muscle is included in that gap). Meaning when Bucky does open his eyes and Steve shifts just a moment after the smaller of the two is rolling back into him. He smiles, enjoying how even when Steve’s asleep he seems to have a gravitational field that only acts on Bucky. 

The weight of Steve’s arm stretches out, searching without thinking for Bucky. 

When he does find him Bucky can’t help but gasp, feeling like an over-sized teddy bear, being pulled by the waist back into his wide chest. Settling in his hold, well, more like surrendering- he’s not hopeful that unconscious Steve will be willing to let him out of his grip -Bucky feels it. Steve’s very hard cock pressing into his ass and his lower back. He’s huge. 

Bucky’s eyes must be blown /wide/. He’s slept with two alpha’s before and seen enough porn to know that Steve’s an exception. Alpha’s have bigger cocks, typically, then male betas and omegas as well as bigger than female alpha’s but not… usually, even when hard, male alphas aren’t as big. 

Dear lord, Bucky thinks. It feels like his forearm, not his cock. He whimpers and accidentally tilts his hips back, following the lead of his instincts in a moment of panic. 

How will he /ever/ fit that monster inside him? How big does he get when he pops a knot if this is him /just/ hard? How long does his knot last because usually the larger the knot the slower it goes down ‘cause blood flow and all… that?

Bucky whines then, realizing what he’s done. 

He pulls his hips back forward and bites his lip hard enough to bleed when he feels the telltale tackiness beginning to pool between his legs. His own cock- which is much (like possibly embarrassingly) smaller -twitching to full hardness in his underwear. He pants quietly, pinned to Steve and dizzy because he’s got no fucking blood left in his head. It’s all gone to his quickly slickening entrance and little cock. 

His alpha then curls his other arm around him too, before it had just been laying straight out under Bucky’s torso, but now it’s bracketed itself across his chest while the other slips down dangerously low. His arm is right over his hip bones and if it travels down any lower he’ll feel, well, everything. 

Bucky carefully pulls his body forward an inch or so, wiggling into the tiny amount of extra room he has in the octopus hold Steve has him in. 

It immediately backfires. 

Steve, growls in his sleep and tugs Bucky back like he’s a rag-doll not a full fucking grown human being. And then Bucky’s even worse off because now Steve’s unfairly huge cock isn’t just pushing slightly into his ass… no, now it’s right between his cheeks. Shoving the cloth of his boxers flush to his entrance and making Bucky shiver. His core throbbing. 

And he can’t do anything but let his mouth fall open with a pathetic noise, wetly panting, need clawing at the back of his throat while his rational brain screams at him. Steve’s asleep- he didn’t consent! They haven’t talked about this! They barely know each other! Steve just said last night that he’s never been with an omega, what if that extends to all other secondary genders? What if he’s never knotted anyone or even slept with anyone? What if he doesn’t want this and Bucky’s accidentally forcing him even though he’s technically just not in control of how his body is reacting because of the UIB? He does want this but he doesn’t want-

Steve shifts. 

Bucky doesn’t move. Doesn’t breath. He can’t, what if Steve wakes up and finds them like this and he doesn’t want this? What if-

Steve presses his nose right to the scent gland on Bucky’s neck as if he’s programmed to (which he sort of is, alphas traditionally being the protectors and all), humming out a soothing sound and tonguing the gland. Bucky gasps, he can’t help it. His distress falling away under the wrath of the thunderbolts of pleasure that overrun his nervous system. Steve seems to appreciate the returning scent of his arousal, a happy rumbling sound vibrating his chest and Bucky’s back. 

“ ‘Mega,” Steve growls his voice thick and rough with a mix of sleep and arousal. Bucky, now climbing out of his panic, realizes he can smell it on him. Tainting is scent with a darker scent that has his toes curling and more sweat setting in on his skin. He whimpers. Louder than he means to, well, he didn’t even mean to in the first place but- Steve’s rumbling again. Another alpha sound that has Bucky involuntarily responding with one of his own. 

He feels like he’s digging his own grave. 

His scent and other signs of arousal were being tampered down by his anxiety but with Steve doing his primal job of soothing his omega he’s getting ramped up again. Blushing with his every helpless response and thought. Like how out of his mind will Steve be able to get him if he shares his next heat with him if without being in season he’s like this? How strongly will he respond to Steve’s rut if he wants Bucky to be there for that (alphas don’t always want or need rut partners in the same way omegas need heat partners seeing as rut isn’t anywhere near as painful for them to go through alone)? How-

“Buck,” Steve’s voice is much more lucid. More awake- Bucky’s mind unhelpfully supplies. He shifts again, squeezing Bucky into him like he can force them into one collective being, this time though Steve scoots himself closer rather than pulling Bucky. 

Bucky yelps and moans in one noise. 

His entire being is engulfed in flames of mortification rather than pleasure. He /felt/ his slick leak through the fabric of his and Steve’s boxers to wet Steve’s cock. He’s going to burn alive at the heat of his embarrassment. Steve hasn’t even done anything!? How- ugh, his eyes roll back into his head when Steve thrusts forward once more -how is he this wet already? How-

“Bucky? What’s-” his alpha cuts himself off with a hum that devolves into sharp inhale. Bucky kind of wants to cry or laugh or beg or, or- fuck, he doesn’t know. He whines out a pitiful pup noise. Upset with himself for taking advantage of Steve while he’s asleep and embarrassed about how easy he is for Steve. He’s never experienced something like this before. He doesn’t know what to do.

Then he’s tearing himself from Steve’s grip and out of the cocoon of the blankets and from the hug of the mattress that he, earlier in the morning, never thought he’d want to leave. He stumbles several times during his frantic journey to the master bath, adding to his embarrassment. 

By the time he’s grabbed his bag from the bathroom and has made it to the front door of the apartment Steve’s fully woken up and is calling his name from the bedroom. Bucky feels another stab of arousal as he pictures the alpha setting up, barely dressed, in his huge bed with his huge body and his huge cock. 

He pauses just once then, fighting his instincts to run back into the overheated hold of his alpha, but ultimately steels himself. Instead of following the painfully confused tug of the bond between them he tells himself he stopped to put his pants on. Yeah, yeah what was he thinking? He can’t leave Steve’s apartment wearing nothing but a t-shirt and boxers. Especially when he’s still leaking slick. The brunette forces his pants up his legs so fast and carelessly that he winces, likely giving himself a rash from the rough fabric. 

He opens the door. Hearing Steve’s approaching steps and feeling even more embarrassed. What is he doing? He should just be an adult and go back and apologize to Steve for himself but he can’t make himself… so he’s running out of the door like a pathetic pup. 

The elevator doors are literally an inch from closing when he sees his alpha open his front door, still basically naked. Their eyes meet through the crack.

Bucky slides down the smooth surface of the elevator. Covering his face in his hands when his knees meet his chin. He swallows, wallowing in his stupidity. Choking on air and spit when he realizes he’s crying. 

Bzzz. Bzzz. 

Bucky sobs. His phone vibrating in his bag and making him think of yesterday and how nice everything was. His hands shake, swiping at his face, trying to get rid of the tear tracks in vain. Anyone who looks at him, hell, anyone who smells him will be able to tell he’s a mess. The muscles of his chin tremble under his skin, another sad noise spills out of him.

Ding.

He stands too fast. Nearly falling back onto the ground but he grabs the hands railing just in time. Standing still for as long as he can- until the elevator doors start to close, at which point he steps forward staring at the ground encase anyone had been standing in front of the elevator- waiting to get on. 

Oh. Oh.

Bucky realizes he’s barefoot. He left his shoes at Steve’s apartment and so while he lives only a ten minute walk away now he has to call a cab or- or… he sighs accepting his fate. Telling himself he would’ve called a cab anyway ‘cause the chances of him getting jumped or something along those lines for smelling the way he does is much less likely while he’s in a cab rather than just walking alone. But- no, he thinks in a mix of excitement and self-pity. 

He wouldn’t get jumped or chased or anything, no, he smells like his alpha. He basically rolled around in his bedsheets that were coated in his mouth-watering smell. He smells bonded, he realizes, no one would try anything. Especially not when his alpha smells so /alpha/, obviously smelling like a good provider and someone meant to be with Bucky. 

He chokes on another noise as his phone starts ringing. He wants to wail. He wants to go back up to Steve’s bed and hide under the covers that smell like safety, better yet, he wants to just have the alpha to cuddle with but his chances of that happening after what he’s just done-

Well, he doesn’t want to think about those odds. 

His phone stops ringing so Bucky just stands in the empty lobby of Steve’s apartment building, swaying on his feet. The only warning he gets that says he won’t be alone in a moment is the thundering of hurried footsteps that grow lower and lower. Looking around Bucky tries and fails to find the entrance of the stairway- or he fails until the slamming of a frantically opened door echoes from behind him. 

He whirls around on impulse and finds Steve. 

Shirtless with running shorts and sneakers on, panting heavily with a wild look in his eyes. He spots Bucky and he seems to forget to breathe for a second, Bucky bites his lip, imagining that if he had cat ears they’d be pressed against his head in fear. He waits for Steve to raise his voice or swear at him or-

“Bucky, baby-” Steve reaches out with his arms, making the fact that the brunette’s shoes are dangling from one of his hands suddenly come to light, carefully stepping closer until there’s only a few feet between them. Bucky’s bottom lip wobbles. Steve brought his fucking shoes. His instincts made him take advantage of Steve when he was sleeping and the stubborn alpha stopped to notice that Bucky didn’t take his shoes… he half hiccups, half sobs. Accepting his shoes as carefully as he can, ensuring for Steve’s comfort that their fingers don’t brush or anything. 

Steve’s breath escapes him in a relieved sigh, “I’m so sorry Bucky. I never meant to trap you like that-” he continues under his breath, “I should’ve slept on the sofa none of this would’ve-”

“Wh-hat?” Bucky chokes out, voice cracking, holding his shoes in one hand before tightly wrapping his arms around his own torso. Soothing himself with the protective crossing of his arms- like a self hug. 

“I didn’t mean to make you-” 

“You didn’t do anything!” Bucky interrupts his voice sharper than he means, if there were others around they surely would’ve heard him, more tears fall and he swears at himself. He doesn’t need to look as pathetic as he feels. “You didn’t do anything.” He asserts again, softer. 

“I held you down! I wasn’t trying to uhm-” Steve blushes but doesn’t break their intense eye contact, just urges through their bond a sort of ‘you know what I did’ message. “I- it’s no excuse but uhm that kinda always happens to me and- and I tend to grab onto anything that’s with my reach when I’m sleeping so…” He peters out, leaving them encased in the too tight silence of the lobby. 

Bucky realizes their predicament first. He throws his head back in exasperation with himself and his out of whack emotions and the mystery of UIBs, loosening the hug he’s had himself in the whole time. He collects himself while he searches the ceiling, also drawing some heavy breaths in. Out. Then repeats the pattern for a minute at least and puts his head back down. Looking at Steve’s gorgeous, worried eyes. Steve’s still silent, a mix of concern for Bucky and confusion in what he’s doing on his face and in his thoughts. 

“I- I…” he motions to where they’re standing, to their surroundings, realizing then that there is still a gap between them. He steps three clumsy paces forward and stops, inviting Steve to come closer if he likes. “I ran away because I-” he starts to blush, reflecting Steve’s earlier reaction to a T, “because I thought my reaction to what you unconsciously did, without meaning to, was too… too? Too out of line? Like-” 

“You didn’t want to take advantage?” Steve offers, whispering just loud enough for Bucky to pick it up. He nods. 

Steve sighs, his lips pulling up into the tiniest of smiles. He steps three paces forward too so there’s just inches between them, asking with his eyes if it’s okay to touch him, Bucky beats him to it. Standing on his tiptoes to press an innocent kiss to his cheek. An apology that doesn’t really need to be told but comforts them both anyway, a sign that they’re okay, that touching is okay.

“We’re idiots” Steve says joyously, contrasting perfectly with his previous tone this morning. Bucky laughs in relief, rocking back on his feet and dropping the weight of his head onto Steve’s solid and very bare chest. He lets out a noise of surprise when his cheek meets skin, not fabric, his anxiety having blinded him to Steve’s state of undress beyond his initial once over. 

“We both thought we were taking advantage of each other, afraid to trap the other.” Bucky confirms, “so..?” 

Steve’s arms come to encircle his body, “how ‘bout we go slower? The bond thingy-”

Bucky laughs into his skin, their connection somehow easy again. Just like that. “Unconscious Immediate Bond, UIB for short.” His lips brush the alpha’s skin, he smells like sleep mostly now. Mellow and safe. 

“Yeah, the UIB makes us click so fast I think it’s making us both go a little insane. We- well, ‘m not gonna speak for you -but I don’t know what I’m doing. That being said, how ‘bout I drive you home, if you’ll let me, you can shower and get dressed and all that and I’ll drive back here to do the same. Then when we’re both clean and fresh we’ll go on a normal date. Breakfast or lunch or something?” A smirk ghosts over his lips, calling back to last night in his car with “somewhere public- like a regular couple.” 

Humming Bucky nods, pulling his face away from Steve’s intoxicating heat, “okay. Breakfast sounds good.” Steve bends down to kiss Bucky square on the lips, pausing first to bump their noses together first in an innocent greeting, one of his big palms cupping the nape of his neck comfortingly. 

“Breakfast then.” He agrees, pulling Bucky back in the direction of the car park, still holding him under his arm. 

The omega realizes as they walk- “are you planning on driving shirtless?” 

Steve snorts, looking down at his own chest with a goofy expression, he squeezes Bucky and lifts the hand hanging over his shoulder to brush hair from his temple, “yep. Got a problem with it? Is it a safety hazard or somethin’?” 

Bucky giggles at him. Pushing further into his side, “nope. Not unless you expect me to drive, then you would classify as a distraction.” Steve laughs and drops his keys as a result, it’s music to the omega’s ears, happiness gathering in his stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're just two idiots falling in love and it's hard okay?


	6. VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Bucky have their first proper date, going out to breakfast.

Bucky gets home safe and sound, no accidents caused by Steve’s chest or misunderstandings that are blown out of proportion because of emotions running too high based on instincts too complex to get. 

Their ride is nice, it’s about a five minute drive to get to his own apartment rather than a ten minute walk but Bucky certainly wouldn’t have been opposed to it taking ten minutes or even longer than that. Steve keeps him busy with jokes intermixed with actual helpful conversation that normally he wouldn’t want to have, but it comes easy with him, especially if he had had to initiate said conversation. They quickly establish that their overrunning emotions will make them have to be more careful because neither of them want to ruin this, this… and again neither of them have the perfect word or words for it but the closest one they can come up with is ‘their connection’, though Bucky makes sure to beat around the bush with his comments of not artificially steering away from more intimate shows of affection if they come up naturally. 

Steve waits ‘til parking the car, using an adorable amount of concentration to parallel park, to continue the conversation beyond nodding and providing a noise of agreement. 

“You know I haven’t dated, uhm, any omegas but I have in the past had experiences with betas, no other alphas. Uhh…” he turns pink while searching for his continued spoken thoughts. 

“Any of them men?” Bucky asks meekly, trying to decode whether or not his brain wants to be both the first man and omega Steve’s had. 

“Once, it wasn’t a real relationship.” He chuckles, shrugging impressive shoulders. “More, well, I wouldn’t have called it /fuck buddies/ but he did... so we’ll go with that.” 

“Classy.” Bucky snorts, unbuckling his seatbelt. “I guess I’ve got some more stuff to teach you down the road then.” Steve swallows, his eyes growing wide, pupils spilling outward slightly. Bucky shifts in his seat, buzzing with the power of just barely hinting at an innuendo and having his alpha react, toying with his hair to cover his want to impishly grin at him. “If we’re gonna talk about past experiences, uhm, I’ve been with men and women too. I like men better though, I haven't been with a woman since college. I’ve dated around. Betas, alphas…” he trails off, scraping his teeth over the silky skin of the inside of his cheek. “Omegas too. Three times, all of them were women. And just so were clear, would you be opposed to-?” 

Steve’s mouth drops open. It closes with an audible click, “No. If it comes up I don’t mind touching and all that, you just might have to less than… subtle. I… yeah that makes sense though,” he shakes his head like he’s disappointed in himself, “I knew alphas shacked up together but I didn’t ever think-” 

Bucky shrugs back at him, “shacked up?” He teases, his right hand falling away from the handle of the car door, “yeah. I get that, omegas are the rarest of the designations so… and it’s like alpha alpha pairs with problems revolving around cycles and stuff.” Steve nods but the curiosity in him is so strong Bucky can practically smell it. 

“I’ve heard with alpha alpha relationships the partners hate or strongly dislike the smell of their partner in rut even if they love their smell normally so then their cycles will do the opposite of syncing up. Which means they need double the ‘partner support’ days of alpha omega couples, that- as unfair as it is -most workplaces won’t provide. With omega omega relationships a similar thing happens. It’s not the same but… It happened to me when I was in those relationships,” Bucky pauses, looking to the alpha, he seems intent to continue listening and is interested just in the dynamic because it happened to Bucky rather than as he’s come to expect when he explains this to people of the taboo appeal of porn type dynamics between in season omegas. 

“What happens is that your cycles sync up but happen twice as often as they should and when you first start dating you, like, endlessly trigger each other.” Bucky’s cheeks feel like they’re on fire but wrinkles his nose at the memory of what he’s telling Steve anyway, “meaning lots of ruined objects. It gets messy.” 

Steve laughs lightly as his expression, “I didn’t think of that either. Yeah. I have no experience with… that. I’m not an omega and I’ve never a ‘mega… so what I can imagine is vague but, hey, sounds like it’s not the most fun even then.” 

Bucky’s pleased with his empathy and ability to be an adult about what he’s said rather than being a knot-head, his stomach growling in agreement with himself. Bucky’s hands shoot to his stomach, trying to hold back his own laughter. 

Steve makes a vague sweeping gesture, “shoo then, the faster you shower and all that jazz the faster you’ll get food. So, get!” His handsome face is cheery and teasing, childish even. Bucky sticks his tongue out at him in return, shutting the door to the sound of the blonde’s amusement. 

He finishes showering in record time, french braiding his wet hair and peering into his closet, perplexed by having to come up with something to wear to a date that’s not being held in the evening. He stands- air drying and mostly naked -for almost as long as it took him to shower. 

He lands on tighter fitting light blue jeans that don’t have holes at the knees unlike the pair he wore at Steve’s last night but rather than donning his comfy work shoes again he grabs his black nondescript flats that were cheap despite having a similar silhouette to something between converse sneakers and vans. He matches his shoes with a black short sleeve button up and layers it over a plain white t-shirt. 

Nothing fancy but not as relaxed as what he wore last so he figures it can qualify as proper date wear. Shooting a text to Steve with one hand he takes another look in the mirror, deciding on pulling a few more strands of hair from his braid so he doesn’t look like he just walked out of the shower so much. And thankfully remembers to put on some deodorant at the last minute, choosing to not put any cologne on in favor of going old school and simply wearing his natural scent that Steve seems to like. 

Sugar, he thinks all the way to his front door. 

There’s no way just /sugar/ has a smell but whatever... Bucky supposed he did also say, what was it?- roses and honey! Which both do have potent smells so maybe the sugar isn’t a bad thing. Probably good- he wouldn’t want Steve to, like, have an asthma attack every time he smelled him. 

Steve picks him up at his door (at his own insistence), no longer bare chested but instead wearing the same brown leather jacket that he was wearing yesterday and had said via text was his favored jacket. It’s rapidly becoming Bucky’s favorite too. Along with that he’s got on dark wash blue jeans and a black shirt, today his belt matches his jacket and shoes. His hair is styled differently, more coiffed than relaxed, but not wet- Bucky shakes his head, sometimes he forgets (and sometimes gets jealous of) the ease of having short hair. But judging by the way Steve looks at him when he opens the door he figures he can deal with the length if it elicits said reaction every time he sees it. 

They end up going to a “secret location” that Steve will not go any further into detail with, chatting in the car without either of them having to think of ways to keep the conversation running and driving farther and farther from the busy center of Brooklyn where their respective apartments are. 

Steve takes him to the outskirts of Brooklyn, to the point where it’s not as modern looking and as picture perfect. Bucky enjoys it, he often doesn’t go anywhere but the hospital, a coffee shop that’s within four blocks of his apartment, and his apartment. So seeing this part of the city is refreshing. Old apartment buildings don’t out number the equally old houses so they stick out wonderfully. Here and there he can see the signs of people but it seems like most everyone is content to hide away, for a while Bucky drifts into silence taking in the slight apocalyptic vibes and imagining stories for how people live here. It seems like this should be in the middle of the country, some rugged, middle of nowhere ‘big city’ rather than a forty minute drive from his area of expertise. 

Steve pulls off the main road just as Bucky starts to really get lost in his own head, turning left rather than right so Bucky doesn’t see where he’s going until the alpha pulls them into a parking space. He sees the theme decor and neon before even reading any of the signs, he almost doesn’t need to, in fact he wouldn't have if it weren’t an automatic thing humans did. 

“A diner?” He questions, following Steve’s lead and undoing his seatbelt before reaching for the door. 

“A fifties diner to be exact.” Steve responds from outside the car, taking a couple steps away, Bucky scrambles to do the same. 

“Okay?” Bucky has no idea why they’ve come here for food but he will admit it’s interesting, he never has been on a date here and he thought he’d been to every place that qualified as a good date spot- within Brooklyn. He guesses not though seeing as they aren’t the only ones here. Four other cars dot the parking lot, all modern cars he notices so it’s not even a bunch of enthusiasts that have nothing else to do. A small bell jingles as they enter, ringing softly as he walks through the door Steve’s held open for him. 

Bucky realizes as he looks about the place that three of the four cars must belong to couples seeing as there is only one person in the diner by himself, okay, so this isn’t just a good spot to eat but also an apparent popular date spot too. One of the couples look as if they might’ve actually seen fifties diners when they weren’t recreations of what they used to be, his heart aches for how happy they look together. 

“This pass your inspection?” Steve murmurs, voice lowered and right in his ear, one of his wide palms coming to rest on his back as the blonde speaks. Bucky swallows, turning away from the older couple to see Steve. 

“Yeah- how’d you find this? This isn’t exactly the main part of town…” 

“My ma worked here for a while, under different managers, we didn’t live too far from here.” His alpha talks easily and steers him, hand still on the small of his back, towards one of the booths on the side of the diner that doesn’t have any patrons. His breath fanning the side of Bucky’s face like they’re having a conversation that requires privacy, nonetheless Bucky appreciates his closeness; it's cold in here. 

A cheery waitress takes her orders, whistling and swaying her way over to them like she’s being paid just to act like she’s really from the time period. Steve gets a breakfast sandwich made with biscuits, egg, cheese, and sausage as well as black coffee. Bucky knows it’s stereotypical for omegas to have sweet-tooths but he knows Steve would never make fun of him for it so he orders what he’s been eyeing the whole time he’s had one of the cheery, bright menus; strawberry and (ironically) sugar waffles with some iced sweet tea. 

She sways her way back to the kitchen and then returns to their table with their food in what feels like seconds but when he Bucky checks his phone its apparently been thirty minutes already. He sets his phone down and refuses to let the sound out that he wants to when he tastes his waffles. Steve grins anyway, looking at him in a knowing way. 

“Shuttup” Bucky w̶h̶i̶n̶e̶s̶ whispers at him, fighting his own laughter back. Steve shrugs and transforms right back into an innocent looking guy, like he didn’t just stare the brunette down in a way that practically screamed ‘don’t moan again in public like you did last night’. 

“I didn’t say anything,” he sing-songs, tucking into his own meal. 

They eat, occasionally swapping conversation that mostly revolves around their food but sometimes ventures into other topics- either way a majority of the next forty minutes are spent with mouths full of delightfully delicious and unhealthy (because apparently they haven’t changed their recipes since the fifties) food. It still makes for good company regardless of how much silence there is, Bucky likes the ease of them together. Spending the time with his eyes bouncing between his glass, plate and alpha. 

Once Bucky’s plate is clean of what he can get down- not that he wouldn’t finish his remaining food, it really is good, if he could fit more he would but he doesn’t want to be sick, so… he stands to relieve himself. Promising to be back with a vaguely sticky, syrupy kiss placed on Steve’s cheek. He grins in return, warning him against falling in. 

Bucky falls into the single toilet bathroom still giggling. 

By the time he’s finished and strolling back, impressively without walking into anything while occupied by looking over the framed memorabilia, he’s talked himself into sliding in next to Steve rather than his own lonely side of the booth. Steve seems pleased, his low noise of surprise fading out of audible range as soon as it can be heard. He’s done now, his plate entirely clean and not just of what he made it through before getting full, it’s entirely clean. Including having been rid of any sizable crumbs. He snorts, Steve has to have an actual hollow leg. 

Hollow leg or not he scoots closer to him, tucking himself into his side shyly, purring when the blonde lifts his arm to welcome the contact further. Steve rumbles in turn, kissing the tip of Bucky’s nose after wiping his lips with the otherwise seemingly untouched napkin. The moment is broken up when a polite clearing of someone’s throat can be heard from over Bucky’s shoulder. Steve sees the source of the noise first, smiling calmly at the intruder. 

“We just wanted to wish you two luck, and some advice-” having just sat up and turned enough to see the kind, worn faces of the old couple they saw upon entering the diner. The woman is talking, looking directly at Bucky. She smells like an omega, soft and flowery like an antique perfume. “Keep places like this.” She looks over at her mate, placing a delicate hand on his shoulder, “you’ll always want special places to come back to. And this place hasn’t let us down yet, I hope it’s good to you two.” 

Bucky swivels his head back to Steve after watching the pair start to amble away, mesmerized by the gentle intimacy they still have at such an old age. It’s… it’s interesting to see that. His own mom’s been alone since he was a child, he never… 

“I wonder why she-” Steve cuts himself off to look down at the omega. The admiration and awe palpable in his eyes, when the look gets directed to him it feels like he stops breathing, like his heart stops beating. 

“I don’t know” Bucky answers Steve’s unfinished question, peppering small kisses down his neck until he gets to his scent gland. There he stalls, tonguing it just to mark him a bit, Steve hums and wraps him closer, shamelessly cuddling him in the middle of the diner (that still has others in it) like they're back in his bed trying to fall asleep.


	7. VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little amalgamation of Steve and Bucky going on a few dates between Saturday (their first night having happened on Friday) and Monday and a few other things that aren't exactly dates...

The next few days of Bucky’s life is a perfect, complete whirlwind of hormones and heavenly experiences. 

With both himself and Steve off work they are both free to go on as many excursions as they dare. After the diner they had gone for a walk in a park not far away and while they could’ve walked to the park Steve drove instead, insisting the park was big and that maybe that much walking would disqualify their day as being a day off. The park had been huge, more like a nature reserve- Bucky had to give him that. The signs spread around the gravel parking lot indicated that it’s bigger than central park in NYC which means it’s probably the biggest park Bucky has ever seen. 

By the time they circle back to the car Bucky is glad they didn’t walk there, it’s not more walking and standing than he would do on a normal shift but it doesn’t feel like that when he’s not in his comfy work shoes. He pretends to be more tired then he is though- just so he can lean onto Steve more. 

When the alpha figures that out he pushes Bucky away playfully, huge palms engulf his shoulders, telling him not to sweat on him and so Bucky pouts, buttering the alpha up with his mouth and wide eyes- asking him for verification on how he thought Steve liked his smell. Steve told him he wasn’t playing fair and just swept Bucky off his feet. Carrying the smaller of the two bridal style (in the way he seems very fond of doing) all the way back to the car even when Bucky playfully whined about wanting to be put down despite enjoying himself. 

After their walk Steve had driven Bucky home, persistent with his urging that Bucky must have something else he wanted to do on a Saturday. Spouting ideas of what Bucky could do by his lonesome: hang out with friends, get sucked into a hole somewhere on the internet (which came out sounding like he was telling Bucky to watch porn but he didn’t do anything that would suggest he knew what that sounded like so Bucky let his cheeks continue to burn in silence), do a puzzle, read a book, catch up on movies, etc. 

That insistence of not just hanging out twenty four seven until tuesday lasted until the evening of the same day. 

Steve had then called him to ask if he knew how to bowl, Bucky had been very glad Steve wasn’t right there in front of him then because some of the food he had been trying to eat had fallen out of his mouth in surprise of immediately being questioned rather than greeted. Bucky verified to him that he indeed did not know how to bowl and also questioned Steve as to why he needed that information.

As if it was obvious Steve had invited him bowling, formally the second time as opposed to just speculating on his bowling skills. 

Bowling was ludicrously fun, especially after dinner time when the bowling alley staff turned off all the lights except for the safety lights behind the counter and switched to black lights. The black lights were accompanied by throwback pop music that had circulated in their late teen years, it was loud but not assaulting-ly so, plus because it was dark Steve seemed to be way more comfortable with PDA. Letting himself get a little looser, so to speak. Basically standing back to chest with Bucky in order to show him how to “properly” throw the ball, more than once going through the trouble of crouching with Bucky, in a way that meant his crotch was directly on his omega’s ass. Like indecently so- their bodies pressed as tight together as they could.

In revenge Bucky has shoved his hips back with his throw, causing Steve to choke on his tongue and making himself score absolute trash but the former made it all worth it. That and hearing how sheepish his voice came out afterwards, like he didn’t even realize what he’d been doing- verifying if it was okay that he’d been doing that, metaphorical tail between his gorgeous legs. Bucky had kissed the hell out him as an answer, taking full advantage of the dark to swat his ass and staring cheekily at him- Steve had growled in his ear then. Causing Bucky to sway in place and bite back an embarrassing noise. 

The rest of the night had gone by in a similar blur of oldly erotic and silly bowling that gave him a vaguely confusing erection (thankfully he never got turned on enough to start to make a mess of his boxers or jeans) and made his face hurt from wearing such an enthused smile. 

That night when he was back in his own apartment (arriving around midnight) he spent his time alone in his awful bed which he was comparing endlessly to his alpha’s. Both being better with the mattress and accompanying accessories and better because it would have had his alpha in it as well. Thoughts of his alpha escorted him to sleep. 

Those thoughts brought on some… interesting …dreams. 

Probably because of his mind filing away the memories of their time bowling in combination with his half baked ideas of what he could do with Steve in the future. Mostly his dreams involved his hulking alpha pinning him in various places and doing various things to him- some not even sexual. Some just comforting, or sweet, or whatever. Those were not the memorable dreams though. 

The most memorable dream had Steve rutting against his ass like he’d accidentally done during their bowling outing, though this was intentional. With his impressive bulge being even more so because he was hard and… dripping. Pre-cum mixing into Bucky’s own slick and sliding all over them both. His rutting was hard enough he made dream-Bucky’s body, and subsequently his dick, rub into whatever he was pinned to- which looked suspiciously like his own front door. Dream-Steve had been growling and dragging his teeth down his neck as he kept dragging his cock between his asscheeks when Bucky returned to reality.

He had woken up humping the mattress. 

An embarrassingly large wet spot emanating from between his legs and from where his mouth had been resting on his pillow. His dick painfully hard and his entrance throbbing and leaking enough slick that made the vague movement of his own legs sliding together erotic. He had been so turned on he didn’t even stop himself from continuing his unconscious movements while awake. Not bothering to even shove one of his toys into himself, even though that inflatable knotting dildo had his mouth involuntarily watering, or bother with his fingers. Just rubbing his dick into his bed and keening when his slick folds and entrance brushed the rumpled sheets. 

Bucky whined and moaned his way to an early morning orgasm that sunday in literal moments, dream-Steve’s bruising grip and unreal cock and fist sized knot fresh in his imagination. Shoving his face into his drool wet pillow as he came, not wanting to get a noise complaint even as his body fought its way through one of the most, if not the most, intense orgasms Bucky’s ever had outside heat. 

With a monumental amount of effort Bucky had gotten up out of bed- his muscles cramping and trembling from his release. 

First he’d cleaned himself up, nearly deciding to just take a three am shower because as a result of his dream he’d dripped slick all the way down to the back of his knees and down the insides of each leg, not even mentioning all the places his cum went. But he doesn’t shower because he isn’t quite sure he wouldn’t just fall over and pass out half way through. 

Rather than have to send himself to the ER he grabs a towel (okay- two towels) to clean himself up. Throwing them in his laundry basket along with his soiled sheets. He thanks his past self for having the forethought to buy multiple sets of sheets and not just rely on having one. He puts the new sheets on his stripped mattress and grabs the blanket he didn’t get shit on, promptly cocooning himself in it and resuming his nights rest. 

The morning comes and passes in a slightly embarrassed haze, washing his sheets and those towels while his lips are all but completely immersed in the pins-and-needles feeling of inadequate blood flow from all of it going to his face. He got himself off not two days ago before last night so why the hell is there /so much/ slick and… and, well, usually after not being able to get off is the only time he gets so wet (disregarding during heat of course) but that’s not it so-

Bucky can’t decide if he loves or hates this whole UIB because /seriously/?- just dreaming about Steve makes him leak like he did the first time he presented when he couldn’t get any relief and just nearly literally drowned in his own slick. How? 

God- he thinks, how bad will his heat be then? 

Well, if he spends his upcoming one with Steve, possibly even if Steve isn’t there judging by the experience he had this morning. 

Bucky walks over to Steve’s apartment later in the day so they can catch a movie showing at three thirty at the nearby cinema, complete with stupidly expensive theater snacks and drinks. A true teenage date idea. Something that Steve seems to be fond of- or at least fond of the old fashioned idea of teen dates, well, if you only count their “normal” dates and not the mess that was the first evening and morning together. First the diner (and walk), then bowling and now movies. Bucky doesn’t mind, it’s rather endearing he thinks. 

This time they do go for an action film seeing as neither one of them is half asleep on their feet like Bucky had been the night before last. Upon arrival Steve tries to buy them a truly spectacular amount of food- they end up splitting the bill -but doesn’t explain why until they get into their first movie and are mindlessly watching the commercials provided by the theater.

“You ever movie hopped, Buck?” 

“Movie hopped?” He repeats, having heard of it but not familiar with the term. 

Movie hopping is more fun and less scary than it sounds as it turns out. Comprised of sneaking into other movies that are beginning at the same time as yours ends without having paid for them, the trick is apparently being confident and inconspicuous. The brunette isn’t exactly sure he fits that bill but Steve pulls up the arm rest between them and arranges their bodies closely, reassuring him that it’s fun and more or less harmless. 

Confident walking really will get you places in life- specifically for Bucky it carries him to a total of three movies that day. He walks next to Steve, his own stride nervous and slow next to Steve unabashed movements. The blonde has enough forethought to plan out which snacks to eat when so that they don’t run out until the last half hour of their last movie. Bucky admires his commitment. 

The total seven and a half hours, give or take, that they spend essentially just cuddling has Bucky floating on a cloud by the end of their adventure. It’s also entirely possible that the two of them are literally surrounded by a cloud of their combined scent with the amount of happy pheromones and all that’s been constantly flowing off of them. So much so Bucky can smell himself purely because of how strong their connection is- how much Steve’s happy, content scent pulls his own out. 

Stumbling out of the cinema might be one of the best parts of that date considering how hard they’re both laughing (Steve having said something that Bucky won’t be able to remember ever) and how grabby they each are. One of Steve’s hands clutching his own stomach like it hurts and his other squeezing Bucky so close to him they might as well be one person, his head tilted back and in the perfect position for Bucky to laugh into his neck. Bucky's own hands having a mind of their own, tangling themselves in slack that he’s somehow found considering it’s another one of Steve’s ridiculously tight shirts. Giggling and so drunk on feel-good hormones Bucky doesn’t even care when he sees the other movie goers around them looking. Let ‘em. 

The walk back to his apartment is just as good and just as giggly with Steve escorting him and making fun of the way the actors in the last movie had parroted fighting moves, definitely not being their fault and rather the way it was cut but it’s hysterical anyway. Punching empty air and poking at Bucky to get him to squeak or laugh. 

It gets to the point where one of the people who they come across (for some reason going for a run at eleven at night) crosses the street before they get close, surely thinking they’re both insanely drunk. Which isn’t far off so neither of them mind. 

Monday comes peacefully. All being easy and lazy. Soft light at Bucky’s eyes that doesn’t urge him to open them, just kisses his eyelids. Letting him know the sun is up and nothing more.

The morning starts with Bucky drifting into consciousness to a low sound, not an alarm clock or a car alarm or siren or anything that qualifies as normal city ambience. The sound doesn’t wake him up, he was shifting in and out of that half awake half asleep zone without realizing it, the noise only comes to his attention after his own reaction spills from him. A sleepy purr that’s so soft Bucky isn’t even sure if it’s audible beyond his own head, not until the sound- one he places as coming from Steve with his groggy mind -continues, becoming louder. 

It’s a droning rumble, rougher than an omegas or betas purr but an alphas purr, or the closest alphas can get to purring. Really it’s just a super low, slow growl. Still it’s nice, it makes Bucky push his face further into the source of the sound. 

“Buck?” Steve’s rumble wavers so he can speak, returning when Bucky whines because of it’s ambisense. “You awake, baby?” He nods, realizing his face has been smashed into Steve’s bare chest with one of his legs thrown haphazardly over the alpha’s hips, like while sleeping Bucky had decided to ensure that Steve couldn’t get away. 

They’re still laying in the position they feel asleep in, chest to chest with Steve having his back resting on the mattress Bucky’s own mingling with the air instead. Most of the omegas shoulders and torso are covering Steve’s while other than one of his legs the rest of his body is on the mattress. He thinks, privately, that they had fallen into such a position because subconsciously they were worried about another dumb misunderstanding of morning… uhm, feelings. 

Nevertheless, this morning is much better. 

Their late night chat about just being willing to wake up the other person if one party was uncomfortable was still fresh in mind for both, but ultimately unneeded. Either because Steve had woken up first and willed away his morning wood or just luck; no matter the reason Bucky is glad for it. The brunette kisses Steve’s pec in thanks just in case it’s the first option before he flings himself out of bed to piss. 

Steve showers, fogging up Bucky’s much smaller bathroom and humming loud enough he can be heard from the kitchen where Bucky is making them pancakes and eggs, a.k.a the only breakfast foods Bucky can confidently make without the internet's help or the threat of burning his apartment to his ground. He snorts at that idea, maybe that would be okay, considering he has a firefighter in his immediate vicinity. A very /naked/ firefighter. 

He shivers despite the heat emanating from the stove. Trying his hardest to not imagine how Steve looks completely naked with water rolling off the sharp cuts of muscle and smooth plains of skin, how flushed all his skin would look and- 

Bucky clamps his legs together, standing very still and successfully not yelping when he feels the surge of blood and a growing ache begin in his belly and pour over into his cock and balls and hole. He might as well be a statue in that moment, irrationally afraid that there’s somehow already slick traveling down the back of his thighs and wetting his sleep pants even though he can feel that he’s not wet yet. 

The spike of panic that’s there and gone is enough to clear is rising arousal- filing away the need to ask Steve about that. /That/ being the very real possibility that their cycles will try to sync up if they continue to spend so much time together. And if they’ll want to spend it together or wait because of the first poor reaction they had- well, poor isn’t the right word but…

Steve materializes behind him then, loosely hanging his arms on Bucky’s hips and complimenting his cooking. Asking if he can help. 

The blonde sets the table efficiently, somehow knowing where the omega keeps his cutlery and plates before he can vocalize his directions- vaguely he wonders if Steve can just blatantly read his mind rather than just the simple connection they have from the UIB. If he can he doesn’t bother to answer. 

They eat in mostly silence, beyond the chewing and clink of glasses and such of course, watching whatever channel Steve turned the TV to while he waited for Bucky to finish up the last of his cooking adventure. It seems to be some old murder mystery film that’s unintentionally hilarous because of the slight delay with dialogue and sound in addition to the corny gore. The quiet lasts until roughly half way through their meal, a strategy on Bucky behalf. Ensuring that if the conversation turns awkward they don’t have to stew in it too much but if it goes well they still have time to revel in it- plus if need be Bucky will be able to claim he’s full and escape to the shower. 

None of Bucky’s plans have to be put into place though, Steve swallows it as easily as sugar once he understands the hints Bucky’s dropping. Adorably clumsy with the whole alpha omega relationship dynamics, he’s of course had the casual sexual education that they provide in school but has no experience beyond that. He knew that ruts and heats respectively could match up with the opposing cycle between an alpha and omega pair but he assumed it would happen later. Which isn’t wrong- depending on the couple but… everything with them seems to be going fast so Bucky wants to be prepared. 

He asks for details on what Steve’s like in rut, promising no matter what he says he will return the favor with his own behavior when in season. 

Steve offers that when in rut he tends to be unaware of his own strength, wincing and apologetically admitting he’s badly bruised partners before. Not because they were trying to leave or anything but more like because Steve kept pulling them closer and would rather obey his instincts; the need to pick them up and manhandle them then allow them to walk. The whole need to provide for his partner and keep them safe. 

Bucky feels his own scent soar at the use of the term ‘manhandling’- how the hell can Steve hit every one of his buttons without even /trying/?

For what seems like years they just stare at each other, Bucky’s own wild eyes reflected in Steve’s, his eyes nearly completely black. Eventually Steve roughly asks if Bucky will be able to deal with that, sort of teasing and sort of serious, he isn’t ashamed to tell Steve he will have no problem ‘dealing’ with that. They stew in thick air, heavy with arousal and tension while the conversation continues. 

Steve finishes his portion off with symptoms of his pre-rut, they’re the usual ones: aggressive to anyone who gets close enough to his partner or friends or even family (territorial, Bucky thinks), strong protective urges, irritability, and a sort of constant half hard-on. Bucky nods, he’s heard all of those things before but never experienced them up-close and personal with a partner because the one time he spent a rut with someone he came in when their cycle was halfway through already. Steve surprisingly seems relieved that Bucky’s done that before.

Then it’s Bucky's turn. 

He kisses the corner of Steve’s mouth beforehand, leaning over the breakfast bar to do so, scolding him teasingly with a rule of no interruptions (including kissing). He turns pink, ducking his head slightly with an understanding but not exactly pleased growl. 

He explains first and foremost, with flames baking him alive from a small bit of mortification at being so plain, what an omega’s anatomy is like, well, what his specifically is like. Reaffirming first that Steve has been with women before- he nods and looks confused. Bucky slowly goes over that while because he’s a male omega he does have a dick because of his second gender he also has a womb and therefore has some of the same anatomy as a woman would. Specifically the main difference being that instead of a clit he has a dick. 

Steve inquires then if that when he differentiated if he had been surprised, he nods, informing him that as a kid he had been unaware he was different but eventually they just assumed he was intersex because male omegas are so rare. Though when he did present his primary care doctor had confessed that he assumed that was what it was but didn’t want to tell him anything until he was sure. At the time he’d been angry, for keeping secrets, but now understood why and was over it. 

Beyond that he explains that his heat lasts six to seven days (‘normal’ being considered anywhere from three to seven days depending on the person) and that most of his cycle is intense. His pre-heat portion of the cycle being a day at most and therefore providing very little warning and occasionally zero warning if he’s not paying attention because he tends to brush it off. Steve nods and dorkily raises his hand-

Bucky lets him interrupt then, being glad he did when Steve sums it up in “so, if I’ve got this right your heat is super powered and comes on fast. Meaning I should be prepared to randomly get a call and haul my ass over here?” 

Bucky laughs and agrees. Stating the common sense of how when in heat he’s super fertile, as when an alphas in rut they’re just as fertile, but that he knows his instincts won’t let it go if he’s got a partner and they don’t cum inside him. He offers to show Steve the paperwork he has for his birth control as well as his recent STD test but Steve just asks to see the STD one, claiming he believes Bucky with the other. Also admitting he knows nothing of birth control so it wouldn’t mean much to him although luckily Steve also has recent STD test results. 

He has a picture of them on his phone because the alpha is apparently a fucking boy scout- always prepared (okay he’s got a picture because his work requires his health to be up to par in everything but it’s funnier if that’s not the reason so…). 

Neither of them are carrying anything, a relief to Bucky because when he does share his heat with Steve he’d rather not have a hormone fueled melt down about not having his baby batter in him- he doesn’t think he’ll ever get over the embarrassment revolving around that. That combined with the conversation last night about being exclusive has Bucky’s hindbrain purring and him spitting out, with a stupid amount of excitement, “great, no condoms then!” 

Steve nearly spews coffee through his nose, his burning aroused scent tamping down in favor of happiness. He nods, confirming that he wants that. 

Bucky quickly glazes over the rest of what his heat is like, just going over the intensity overall as well as the mess he will be literally and figuratively. Also placing down the gauntlet of his consent for Steve to help him through his next heat no matter the stage he’s at with it when the alpha will come in, knowing that the consent of an in-season omega is sketchy in the legal world. Offering, mostly in a joking way, if he wants Bucky to write that out on paper or send him a voice memo of that so Steve can be sure. Steve declines and Bucky remembers his sunday morning activity… he should probably mention that-

He tells Steve that the last detail he should know is the immense amount of begging he’ll be doing when in heat. Telling him it's not something he can control and that he hopes Steve’s fine with it. 

His concern is meant by Steve’s gravelly, deep rumble of “that so? You a screamer too Buck? If you’re so vocal in that way?”

Bucky lunges forward at that, his mid-level of arousal caused by the mildly explicit conversation they were having (because they’re adults) shooting up to uncontrollable lust just because of that. All the toe curling details Steve had put out there coming to the front of Bucky’s mind and dancing down his spine to pool between his legs. 

Steve lips meet his own with a sharp growl, his tongue sweeping Bucky’s plush lips with just enough finess to make the omega moan aloud, his jaw dropping open in easy submission, suddenly craving to throw all of his being over to Steve. To give Steve himself so he can control his pleasure. Steve groans into his mouth, affected by the x-rated thoughts racing through Bucky’s mind at a million miles an hour. 

Tired of the counter cutting into his torso Bucky breaks their all-devouring kiss, nodding his head in the direction of his bedroom and living room. 

Steve kisses sloppily down his neck and mouths at his jaw, pulling Bucky by the waist into himself, growling at the breathy moan his mouth elicits from the omega. Bucky’s mouth hangs open, the feverish heat of Steve’s lips and the toe curling sensation of just the lightest scratching of teeth over his throat making the seat of his pants grow wetter. He goes limp with a high pitched keen when Steve doesn’t move them from the kitchen- instead just pressing him bodily into the counter. 

This time he couldn’t care less about the unforgiving material pressing into him, much more interested in how Steve is pressing against him. His cock rapidly hardens in his jeans and rubs Bucky’s own erection- he whines in delight, trying to get his hands to work enough to grab at Steve instead of weakly pawing. 

“Pl-please!” He chokes out, not sure what he’s asking for but also not caring, just as long as Steve keeps touching him. 

Steve doesn’t respond other than groaning and thrusting forward against his omega’s body, Bucky thrusts back, finally getting his fingers to stop just trembling and grip something- that something happening to be his alpha’s hair. He must grab on a little too excitedly, he’ll later blame the well timed nip to his scent gland, because he growls and lifts one of Bucky’s legs up. Curling it around his hip and forcing them even closer together. 

Bucky wails, feeling his throbbing core coming into contact (albeit through four layers of cloth but whatever) with Steve’s cock, he digs his heel into Steve’s back. Silently praising the alpha’s tiny waist with the movement. 

Then just as effortlessly as he had done with the first leg Bucky’s other is being secured around his waist too and then he’s off the ground as his alpha takes all his weight- it presses him down onto Steve’s tented jeans rather than just into. He makes another garbled helpless noise, figuring it would feel something like this if he was riding Steve. He claws at his alpha with the hand not tangled in his hair, begging him once more while trying not to choke on his own saliva. 

Steve bites at his bottom lip, his own pulled into a smirk- his eyes dark with lust and wild. Predatory even. 

Bucky clings tighter, heatedly licking straight into his mouth and feeling like he’s already sitting on the edge of orgasm. Steve’s kisses are just as good as his everything else because when their tongues meet the brunette doesn’t have any coordination left to reciprocate, instead he wetly pants and moans into his mouth. Trying to grind down onto him despite full well knowing he doesn’t have enough leverage. 

As if to help him with that Steve moves them to the side so he can set his ass down on the counter without sending plates clattering to the floor, one last kiss is paid to his lips then to his jaw and chin and then Steve’s pressing him back onto the counter. One huge palm over Bucky’s chest, even just that making the sensitive omega whine. 

His back hits the surface with a thunk and Steve is diving forward, shoving his face into crotch and scenting him. Growling louder and more primal than any other sound Bucky’s ever heard any alpha make when he does, one of Steve’s hand not leaving his chest, instead going to pinch and roll his nipples through his shirt while the other jacks Bucky off over his sleep pants like he can’t be bothered to get them off first. Bucky’s helpless then. 

Pinned in place by pure desire, whimpering and whining out noises that at any other moment would have embarrassed him enough to run away and cower under the bed like a scared pup, but it’s too hot with Steve’s face shoved down between his legs doing nothing but smelling his arousal while his hand grabs possessively at his dick. 

Steve growls out “mine” while biting at the sensitive inside of his thighs, his hands abandoning both Bucky’s dick and nipples in favor of harshly pulling his hips down like he’s just going to devour Bucky right there and then and then Bucky’s suddenly barreling over the edge. 

His legs clamping together like he’s aiming to smother Steve between his thighs with the dominating scent of his slick and he’s crying out Steve’s name breathlessly then wailing wordlessly right after because Steve catches onto the fact that he’s coming and is palming him once more. Bucky feels more slick oozing out of him and collecting at the back of his pants, probably leaking onto the counter, his own release wetting the front of his pants as well. 

Eyes shut and mouth wide open Bucky comes down, trembling and whimpering thinly at the back of his throat, his mouth too dry despite the drool at the corners of it. He lets his head drop back, opening his eyes while trying to catch his breath. 

“Good?” Steve asks, voice thick and deliciously rough with desire. Bucky makes a fucked out noise of agreement, giving him a thumbs up because Steve is going to have to peel him off of the counter if he wants him to move any time during this century. His alpha laughs, patting his leg and sliding hands under his back in order to pull him vertical. 

Bucky whines out of embarrassment when he gets eyes on Steve. 

His damn slick is all over Steve’s face, mostly his chin and cheeks, and when his grey-blue eyes are pulled down by some invisible force it turns out that the front of his pants are even worse off than his face. The entire front of his pants are splotched with his slick- when, how… why, when did he even get so /slick/? How is there even more under his ass? 

Steve licks his lips when their eyes meet again, “I guess I need to shower again” he jokes. 

Bucky is immediately brought back to his earlier train of thought and blurts out, “shower with me” before he can feel even more mortification. 

Steve hesitates but is staring at him like- like a piece of meat, or his prey. 

For once Bucky is more than happy to be looked at like that so he hops off the counter, resetting their suddenly glaring height difference, an impressively loud wet noise punctuating his move as he un-sticks himself, “coming?” He throws over his shoulder when he doesn’t hear footsteps following his- Steve’s normally blue eyes look completely black now and are flicking hungrily between his face and ass in an impressive expression of his self-control, seeing as Bucky is a very compatible, very willing omega that currently smells like the equivalent of a steak dinner to a starved tiger. 

Strained he manages to look Bucky in the eyes, “just ‘cause I, err, I got you off doesn’t mean you have to-” 

Bucky’s standing in front of him before he even thinks about moving, Steve’s hands snapping up to his hips as if magnetized, he leans in- pretending to be going for a kiss but really just biting down on his sharp jaw with a noise close to a growl of his own. 

“That’s not why I’m asking or suggesting.” He pauses, mirroring Steve and licking his own lips, “I know what I want.” Steve makes another animalistic sound that Bucky’s never heard come out of anyone before and nods his head once he gets control of himself again, it takes them a down right stupid amount of time to get into the bathroom but mysteriously short time to get naked.


	8. VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Showers are an excellent place to get clean... and dirty, at least for Steve and Bucky.

Once they find themselves both naked it’s an impressive feat to get into the shower without slipping and falling, without just going at it right in the middle of the room, however before Bucky can even give that worry a second thought Steve is touching his right shoulder carefully- tracing the keloided network of scars webbing his skin -as if the skin is precious, breakable even. 

“What’s this?” Steve’s scent mellows out slightly, curiosity winning out over his desire, he picks up Bucky’s wrist, lifting it so he can cover his upper arm and his shoulder in kisses. Some sloppier than others. Bucky loves him. 

Bucky gasps, letting Steve think it’s from his kisses on sensitive skin rather than what he’s just thought- but he still thinks it. He doesn’t stop thinking it. Can’t stop his mind from not repeating it over and over again but just spreading it out- hearing it circle around his brain. He /loves/ him and despite his initial, impulsive, gasp he has known it to be true, Bucky didn’t have to think it before then because he knew- naturally. Like their first kiss, it hadn’t felt strange in the slightest bit just purely right and whole and perfect and natural and-

Steve is looking at him, eyes deepened by lust-blown pupils but also by concern, reflecting deeply in his sea blue eyes. Bucky beats him to words once his lips part, suddenly fearful of their instinctual reactions to confessing that, using /that/ word, right now when they’re both drenched in desire and their most basic needs. 

“Car crash, when I was younger, I’ll tell you about it later- in detail. Just know it wasn’t all that bad, I’ve just got the scars from the original surgery then for two more. Both additional ones for removals of scar tissue with the second also updating the shoulder replacement joint I have.” Bucky quells him, putting his palms flat down onto his chest and guiding him back into the walk-in shower, silently thanking Steve for leaving the door open after his first shower that morning- otherwise one of them might have a concussion. And concussions are not sexy, Bucky knows. His short explanation sinks in and causes Steve to lean down and kiss his shoulder one last time, nodding as he pulls back-

“Okay, just- I don’t have to be extra gentle with this-” he taps his shoulder carefully using his palm to cup his armpit and draw him closer, murmuring the last of his spoken thoughts into Bucky’s lax mouth, “then, do I?” The shorter of the two shakes his head, connecting their lips and getting them back into the push and pull of the hot line of lust entangling and connecting them both. 

Something hot and shivery settles in Bucky’s belly when he realizes, unlike with himself sitting on the counter, to kiss he has to be on his tiptoes /and/ Steve has to tilt or duck his head down. It makes his hindbrain pleased, pushing more blood to his entrance at the fact that his alpha could fucking swallow him whole. Could, could-

Steve pulls them further together from; head to toe, impossibly closer, both of them pushing out sounds of pure primal relief at being skin on skin without any boxers or shirts or anything in the way.

“What- ha!” Bucky’s shrill voice is cut off when Steve just locks in on one of his sweet spots, movement so clean and precise it’s like there had been a red ‘x’ painted on it, his teeth dragging over the thin skin just below the sharp corner of his jaw. He keens, melting and falling lower. Steve growls, pushing both of his hands under his armpits, his hands burning holes in his overheated skin laying delicately over the pretty curve of his ribcage, his hold entirely designed to keep Bucky up right and at the right height so Steve can keep loving on him. 

Steve does it again and again and again and Bucky’s wailing, he would be laughing because the shower isn’t even /on/ if he could think about anything other than the throbbing ache coming from between his legs that seems to consume his entire being in unrelenting flames, but he can’t so he’s just boiled down to soaking himself further and making noises that draw ones of pure lust from the alpha. Bucky will never be sure of how long they stand there in the shower despite it not running- making noises; his own from Steve’s intense attention to his jaw and neck, Steve’s likely coming from the pure release of making his omega feel good but when Bucky realizes that last part he suddenly aches for something else. 

His instincts to please kicking in in the form of squirming and little distresses whines that fall out of his lips without his permission. Steve notices the second after it starts happening, immediately looking for how he can soothe his pretty omega, “ ‘mega, what-” 

Bucky surges forward, clanking their teeth together accidentally but paying it no mind, “please, ple-please, pl-”

Steve quells his begging. Tilting his head up with both hands at the sides of his face, the fingers of his left hand brushing some of the marks that the blonde made, incidentally accentuating his jaw, Bucky feels himself leak more- whimpering shyly. Steve kisses him gently, bending down some to press their lips fully against one another, slotting easily together like that’s all they were made to do. A questioning rumble bubbles out of him, entering the air between them and clearing Bucky’s mind more. 

He bites at Steve’s full lower lip to communicate this. 

Steve pulls his lips away but not his hands, “what is it, Buck?” 

“Plea-” Bucky cuts himself off, feeling himself slipping backwards. Needing grounding he reaches over to turn the shower on, bathing them in water and the beginnings of steam- Steve gives him a thinly veiled ‘that was weird, why did you do that?’ look.

Bucky doesn’t give him a verbal answer, just falling to his knees, unconsciously ignoring any of the pain that might shoot through his knees at the connection of his weight on the tiled floor. Steve’s eyes blow wide, a groan that sounds like it’s been punched out of him getting partially swallowed by the rushing of water. It echoes in Bucky’s ears anyway, his toes curling before he feels the rest of his body respond, slick leaking onto his calves where they’re folded under his ass, his mouth flooding with saliva, and jelly replaces all his muscles. The effects on the brunette's body and mind multiply when he realizes with their seven inch height difference he won’t be able to truly be on his knees and take his alpha’s cock into his mouth. He has to come up on his knees without having his legs folded under him, and even then a small upwards tilt of his head is required. Even more so if he wants to see Steve’s face. 

Steve puts his hand in Bucky’s dampened hair, firing him out of his thoughts that realistically amount to little more than a mantra of desire and lust that has him aching and leaking and whining and moaning. 

“Please.” Bucky mouths over the top of Steve’s thigh, his forehead resting in the cradle of Steve’s hip where it begins to turn to his leg, his alpha’s hand tightens in his hair and the rest of the world- anywhere beyond the miles of flushed skin and perfect muscle and broad clean lines and the scarily impressive cock laid out before him fading out of Bucky’s world. His axis tilting in the direction of his alpha, the need to please and serve hitting him harder than anything ever has. Replacing every thought or doubt or-

“Buck? Bucky!” Steve’s hand tugs his head back, his neck arching in a beautiful show of submission, pulling at his wet hair. The urgency in his voice indicates that Bucky’s been pressed to his alpha’s leg whimpering and practically drooling for some time; if he had the brain power to be embarrassed he would be. 

Now he just pants up at Steve and licks his lips, sighing out “wanna taste you… please?” 

Steve chokes out a strangled “shit”, arching his own head back to take a minute. Then he lets his voice go rough and feral, “yeah baby, want you to swallow me down- jus’ make sure you’re careful. Such a little thing like you…” Bucky wants to sob at that but he settles on whining and clenching and unclenching his hole, “yeah- yeah. So sweet and, and small. Gotta be careful taking your alpha because ‘m not sure a little thing like you should be able to take this.” 

Steve’s huge hand wraps the base of cock, just under where his knot will be, confidently. Obscenely. Directing his cock to Bucky’s lax mouth with such blatancy it has Bucky choking on air, drool wetting the corners of his mouth. He wants it. He wants it in him so bad he’d beg- he’s already on his fucking knees but he’s get his whole body on the floor and beg if Steve asked. He would. He just, he wants to taste that. He wants-

He lungs forward the best he can with Steve’s hand still in his hair, commanding him so casually it’s got Bucky trembling. 

The moment he gets his mouth on Steve Bucky feels whole, desire pounding into him like a sledge hammer while Steve’s cock splits him open, he whines around the thick cock in his mouth. Steve groans like he’s dying, his thumb drawing lazy shapes on the corner of his mouth before sliding away with a tremble when Bucky hollows his cheeks. Just the tip in his mouth. Already it feels like so much, having just a portion in his mouth makes him want all of it. 

He bows forward and chokes, his alpha’s cock hitting the back of his throat, sputtering around the girth of his alpha’s cock and whining when he can’t get all of it- hell, he can’t even get more than half way down before he’s choking. His cock thick enough he knows his jaw will be ridiculously sore in about ten minutes and that it’ll be a miracle if he can speak normally after with the length, well, if he can get Steve in him the way he wants him. 

Bucky tries again, grabbing onto Steve’s hips like he’s the only thing keeping him upright- his blood alight with need to please. His own wants fading away seamlessly uncaring when his throat contracts and fights his alpha’s unreal cock, Bucky just wants to make Steve feel good and-

Steve’s hand is pulling him back and off his cock.

Bucky’s arms shoot from his hips to around the very top of his legs, encircling his alpha’s legs so he can stay in place, his forearms brushing the bottom of Steve’s ass. A whine louder than any other he ever remembers making rips out of him, despite his mouth being full. Bucky just has the first maybe third of his alpha’s cock in his mouth but he wants it all. He wants it. All of it. He sinks back down. He chokes again. 

This time he’s distraught enough in his inability to take Steve that Steve can pull him fully off of his cock before he can cling on once more. The sound of Steve’s cock leaving his throat has him moaning, opening his mouth wider and leaning back in. He just wants to-

He wails, unhappy as his alpha scruffs him. 

Scruffing is meant to calm down omegas and is usually only done by alphas but if practiced some betas can learn how to effectively do it, it being grabbing the nape of an omega’s neck and squeezing gently. With the right amount of pressure and positioning of the fingers the hold soothes the omega- a ‘natural tranquilizer’ or ‘natural time out’ as his mom referred to scruffing (mostly because she found the instant effect of it amusing, as a fellow omega, but that’s besides the point). 

Bucky melts, his head tipping back into the hold. 

He’s never been scruffed before, never has trusted anyone to do it, at least not anyone who could actually do it properly (re: an alpha). His mom had done it once or twice in an attempt to pull him out of a panic attack when he was a pup but besides that-never. Now having it done to him he realizes he should’ve allowed more people he trusted to do it.

His mind isn’t clear per say, just- just not panic-y and needy and ready to literally cry because his alpha’s too well endowed for him to deep throat. He feels like a puddle of melted ice cream. Becoming aware of his body again little by little, his attention falling from the ache consuming his mind behind the quieted need to blow Steve and catching on how he’s unsure if there are tears sliding down his face or if it’s just spray from the shower. He looks up at Steve, eyes wide in an attempt to let him know without speaking that he’s okay. 

Steve releases his grib slowly with an apology heard just over the white noise of rushing water. 

Bucky surprises himself by pressing a gentle kiss to the glistening tip of Steve’s cock, which he notes is still hard so his submersion into his /omega side/ couldn’t have been that ugly, and speaking, “I- you, you don’t need to apologize. I mean- don’t do that just anytime you want but… I trust you to know when it’s okay. It was okay-” he licks the side of Steve’s shaft, watching his alpha fight the urge to squirm, “I think I like that though.” The brunette confesses, nosing at Steve’s heavy balls, drawing a shocked exhale of breath to sound more like a groan. 

Steve nods, breathing out and asking if he still wants to get him off and that he doesn’t have to! Not at all. 

“You, uhm, you should control it I think. I’ve never- never gone that deep into, like, pleasing instincts before. You can-” Bucky pinks significantly, “pull my hair. I like that.” Steve’s cock gives a pleased twitch, his mouth waters in response, a hand slides back into his hair. Tugging carefully once as a test run, Bucky can’t swallow his moan of appreciation. 

His alpha doesn’t put his cock right back into Bucky's mouth like he thought he would, instead he directs Bucky’s head to be still and traces his cock over and around his swollen lips, playing. Bucky drops his mouth open anyway, trying his damndest to get his tongue on Steve when his cock comes close enough. 

Steve taps the top of his head, a growled “be good” hitting Bucky’s gut like a falling cinder block, he whines, high and breathy. The slow, intimate, brushing of Steve’s fully hard cock over his face has him leaking and appreciating that they’re in the shower because if not, there would be a /lake/ under him. 

Then like he can’t take his own teasing anymore Steve’s voice takes on a hoarse, feral note telling him to open wider. Bucky obeys seamlessly. 

Steve sets the tip of his cock on Bucky's tongue, petting his omega's jaw until he closes it, sealing the tip of his cock in his mouth. Steve groans, breath leaving his great chest in heaves. The process of working his cock into Bucky’s mouth is slow and tortuous, Steve seemingly going by the milimeter. But it makes Bucky feel like his cock is that much bigger, which really it doesn’t fucking need to be any bigger, not at all, yet the mind game of it has Bucky squirming on his knees. His swollen cock and slick hole rubbing against nothing but his own skin and making him keen around the thick intrusion. 

More of Steve slides in then, his alpha powerless against the molten suction and the intoxicating slide of his omega’s mouth, he can’t help but chase his own pleasure more then.

Grabbing, with the hand that’s not in his hair, at one of Bucky’s hands that are at his hips once more. He shows the omega what he wants, guiding his fingers to the loose skin that’s inflating at an embarrassingly consistent and speedy pace- he curls his fingers around the area. Helplessly jutting his hips forward at the feeling. Eyes falling shut and breath stuttering. 

Looking down doesn’t do shit to distract him. It just makes it worse. 

Bucky’s expression is focused; focused on making Steve feel good, focused on taking his cock, focused on wrapping his hand completely around the base despite it being clear that his elegant fingers aren’t long enough. Steve feels bad for how much it gets under his skin. Knowing his omega can’t even wrap his hand around him fully before he’s even popped a knot. 

Bucky caresses the skin there with all the brain power he can spare from knowing and feeling Steve in his mouth. Thanks to the unending patience Steve has (despite also being very stubborn) his cock is in his mouth. And, dare he say- more importantly, down his throat. 

God- his cock in his throat. Filling his mouth to the brim and his throat while still having enough of his cock out of Bucky for the omega to be able to cup and rub at where his knot will be near the base of his cock. 

It’s so good, pleasing his alpha, that it has Bucky’s hips involuntarily pulsing into thin air. Whining around Steve’s cock at the way his own hits his stomach when he stops rocking forward, the way Steve’s cock feels in him, and at the sweet friction of his dripping, throbbing entrance between his closed legs. He half-thinks for a millisecond wondering if he’s produced enough slick to be dehydrated yet and if he can blame his cock-drunkenness on that. 

Steve moans above him, voicing his urgency and the need boiling over under his skin. 

Bucky pulls his other hand away from Steve’s heated hip in favor of locking both hands around Steve’s incoming knot, feeling through their bond how the skin itches sort of- pulsing and aching, fully engulfing the area ensuring it’s not painful with the half constriction of just one of Bucky’s hands on him. Working his mouth harder than Steve was making him to ensure his orgasm is good. Lightning strikes Bucky through Steve, his own smaller cock twitching with need where it’s been forgotten. 

Despite his mouth being full Bucky still knows with the UIB he can dirty talk Steve into next week. He can get him there through a (hopefully) fantastic blow job and filthy thoughts that he’s been keeping to himself religiously. 

God- once Steve pops his knot there will be so much cum. So much. Bucky wants to fucking drown in it. Wants Steve to stuff him full. Fuller than he already- he’s so, so full, so stuffed with Steve’s cock splitting his mouth open. So full that anymore of Steve in his throat and he’d be choking and suffocating but he could if he wanted to- he could take the rest of Steve and-

Steve groans, this one feral and desperate and obviously affected by Bucky’s monologue of filth that’s shared between them. His entire body is covered with chills in sympathy with Steve’s overworked system. He goes for it- taking a deep inhale through his nose and stuffing the remaining half inch between his hands locked around his half formed knot into himself. 

Letting his squirming, thirsting, eager, needy omega baser instincts take over. 

/Want it. Want it. Want it. Want your knot alpha, wanna feel you cum in my mouth. Wanna choke on your cum, want to drown in it. Wanna swallow you down and feel you lose it in me, want you to mark me, to fill me up-/

Steve goes off like a shot at Bucky’s last train of thought, obviously loving the idea of breeding and filling Bucky up. And fill him up he does- when the brunette knows he’s cresting over he stays on his cock with his lips meeting his hands for as long as he can. Which means until Steve’s cum has filled his mouth and throat and he needs to swallow or risk it leaking out and dripping down his chin and as nice as that idea is he meant what he said so he pulls back, laving his tongue and bobbing his head over the first half of his cock while keeping consistent pressure on his blown knot. 

Bucky’s vision may or may not white out at envisioning what that will feel like in him, hell, what it would look like in him. 

Steve makes a noise that sounds like he’s dying, Bucky smirks as much as he can with a mouth full of cock. Bless the whole thought and feeling connection part of a UIB. 

If Bucky’s on fire feeling the twin sympathy feelings of his alpha’s orgasm then Steve must be submerged in lava from head to toe, his abs rippling above Bucky’s head, his legs shaking and closing to cradle the omega’s shoulder, his eyes squeezed shut against the onslaught of pleasure. His skin flushed everywhere. 

Bucky pulls back on his own violation, knowing exactly when the left over pulses of pleasure turn to jabs, he blushes. Looking at the floor bashfully, feeling water drip down his nose, god that noise was /filthy/. 

Steve paws at his cheek, getting him to glaze back up at him, the blonde’s still panting but somehow manages to not look tired out. Bucky swallows. His head fuzzy with lack of blood flow that favored more important areas so he doesn’t question anything when Steve hauls him back up to standing. Flipping their positions efficiently so that Bucky’s overheated back makes contact with the cool tile, he sighs, a bit of a moan creeping into the sound. 

Bucky would laugh at the way Steve perks up at the noise me makes if the air wasn’t so damn thick between them but he can’t do anything with the way Steve’s closing in on him. /Predator and prey/ flashes through Bucky’s head. He whimpers, squirming as if he’s bound to the wall. 

Steve pounces, intending on pinning Bucky but his leg literally /slips/ in the collection of slick on Bucky’s inner thighs, forcing him to quickly readjust and accidentally press the hard muscle of his own thigh to Bucky’s weeping cock. And that’s it. 

Bucky can’t help it, he’s humping up into the firm pressure of Steve’s thigh twice and he’s coming. 

He comes with a barrely stifled scream, his own pounding breaths cutting it short and making the rest of noises that come out of him to be feminine wails and whimpers, rocking into Steve and curling into himself with the sheer force of his orgasm. Nails biting at Steve’s shoulders and anywhere he can reach really. Needing something to hold onto through this fucking roller coaster. 

His alpha works him through it flawlessly, dragging more pleasure and cum out of Bucky than he knew possible. Steve’s mouthing at his scent gland with a possessive sound that sends a hot stab of desire right into his dick and entrance, teeth grazing it in a tease of biting that’s got his head dropping like dead weight. As if that wasn’t enough Steve keeps flexing and releasing the muscle of his thighs, driving Bucky out of his head and using his side of the bond likely in a way that’s unintentionally considering that his thoughts are just ramblings of how good his omega is and often than not how /wet/ he is. 

Heavy breathing brings him back down to Earth, his own Bucky diserns. 

He’s not cold, despite the rushing of the shower not being heard around them, them… Bucky blinks his eyes open, smiling softly when he realizes Steve’s set them both on the floor of the shower, well, the corner of the shower to be more accurate. Steve’s in the corner more so than Bucky, the alpha leaning against the two walls with his legs spread. Bucky’s between them, curled forward into him. 

He half hums, half purrs- enjoying Steve’s heat and the easy glow of post-orgasm haze. 

His alpha’s curiosity is burning through him though, not ruining the peace but just making it buzz a little- it’s a nice buzz, gentle and soft. Concerned, he decides. He likes having an alpha who cares so deeply so he lifts his head, raising- or at least attempting to -an eyebrow at him because he looks relaxed but that’s not what his mind is telling Bucky. 

Finally he spits it out, “is coming twice a /you/ thing or an omega thing?” 

Bucky indignantly snorts breaking out into startled laughter, unexpecting /that/ to be the question, which he explains to Steve promptly after he finishes his laughing fit. Pushing his head into Steve and apologizing for being so stupid after he cums (which Steve chuckles gently at). It generally is an omega thing but not always, depends on the omega, though in relation to him specifically yes he can cum multiple times. 

“Multiple times?” Steve repeats, blinking owlishly at him, contrasting with the Cheshire Cat like grin spreading over his face. Bucky feels his face flush, he looks down, studying where they’re pressed together, the difference in their skin tones slight but fascinating nevertheless. He nods, more blood rushing to his face and, uhm, other places despite the fact that he’s just cum… /twice/. 

“What’s your record?” Steve grins wolfishly. 

Bucky stares at him then, disregarding his want to hide in favor of his need to see how his alpha looks when he sounds like that, “fu-four…” he says breathlessly after a while. Quickly adding, “well, outside of heat.” Bucky watches the blonde’s pupils blow wider and his nostrils flare a bit, he kisses the corner of the omega’s mouth, a touch of hunger dripping through his supposedly sweet kiss. 

“Can I ask- what about in heat?” 

He shrugs, “I couldn’t even keep up with the numbers when it was four…” he trails off, hoping Steve will get the hint. 

He does, a small “oh” falling from his lips. He clarifies, pulling them both up to stand rather than sit on the shower floor, “so, there was another person with you?”

“Yeah, uh, one of the other omegas I dated, sh-she was really into that kinda thing.” Steve thankfully doesn’t seem bothered by the fact that he’s brought up an ex, which Bucky should expect because Steve brought up the conversation but with alphas one can never tell. Not even themselves apparently- with the intense possessive instincts that are hard wired into their brains. 

Steve instead just asks if he really would like to get clean now and turns on the shower when the brunette nods his affirmation, then prompts him to go on if he pleases. 

“She was an omega… but-”

“Yeah.” Steve offers, patiently agreeing to get Bucky to continue and to show he’s listening. 

Bucky raises his voice that now has to compete with the sound of rushing water, leaning over to get his hands on the soap, “but she, uhm,” he pinks more. Not from the heat of the water. Steve notices, naturally, and takes the soap from him- lathering it between his broad palms and pausing before putting them on Bucky’s chest. Obviously waiting for his approval before washing him. Bucky steps closer, craving the intimacy of washing your mate, or, not mate. Boyfriend. He gentles himself, a boyfriend he’s in love with. Already.

“She was my longest relationship, to date, but we had... we,” his brows scrunch together, not knowing how to really explain it without just putting it all out there. There’s not going to be any delicacy with this. He swallows back a purr, enjoying Steve’s soapy touch that’s dragging all over the front of his body. 

“You don’t have to tell me.” Steve reminds him but the omega shakes his head. 

“No- just. Words are hard.” His alpha smiles and laughs, indicating with a hand gesture that he needs to turn around so he can wash his back. It’s easier and harder to tell Steve like that, with his back to him, on one hand he can’t see his face so he can’t see how he reacts, if he’ll be okay with it. On the other hand he can’t see his face so he won’t know if it’s bad. He bites the bullet, “We had a Dom Sub relationship dynamic- not all the time. Just… she was the dom. That was one of the things she liked to do,” he clears his throat “to me.” 

“Did you like it?” Steve asks, his voice inquiring but not because he’s disgusted or, or anything else. He just wants to know how Bucky felt about it. And casually has decided to voice it while washing his ass, Bucky shifts forward in surprise when he feels Steve palming his ass although he quickly relaxes. It feels good. 

“I let her do it.” The omega half-snarks back, lightening Steve’s instincts which are whispering /protect the omega/, /keep the omega safe/, and others that sit along the same line. He answers for real then, “yeah. We had that dynamic every time, uhm, except in heat. Then I was too out of it to- to do anything like that. But! That doesn’t mean I need that with you, I mean-”

“Hush,” Steve says playfully, spinning him so they’re chest to chest. “I don’t need all the details of everything you did with her. I get what you mean and-” then it’s the blonde’s turn to turn pink, he continues in a whisper, well, a low voice that sounds like a whisper in the shower. “And from what I’ve been able to tell about Dom Sub dynamics versus what we just did… I don’t think it would change us that much.” 

“Who's to say that I wouldn’t Dom you,” The younger and shorter of the two pipes up, shyly licking his lips and uncurling Steve’s fingers from around the bar of soap in preparation to return the favor of washing. 

Steve chuckles, the sound coming from low in his chest, his lips curling up teasingly. “Buck, no offence, but I don’t think you would enjoy that.” He offers cupping the side of Bucky’s neck softly, as he goes to open his mouth and retaliate Steve kisses him. Soft, just a quick peck but it’s enough to get him to stop thinking about replying. Steve smiles wryly, “Buck, you don’t ever need to fight it to seem…“ he waves his hand vaguely before continuing, “I mean, I scruffed you because you went so under, so into your instincts, that I thought you’d hurt yourself to please me. Then you told me you liked it when I scruffed you. Doing that is meant as a control method, traditionally o’ course.” 

Bucky’s gut curls tight with the realization that, yeah, he’s incredibly right. 

He blushes bright and all the way down to his chest, pieces flying together in his mind to solidify that it’s not just that she had been the perfect Dom for him and had been able to coax him down… He just is naturally like that. Oh. Well… 

“Is that okay?” He asks meekly, hiding in the easy motions of rubbing bubbly circles on his alpha’s chest. 

“I like it.” 

Bucky glows, knowing full well that Steve just said out loud that he likes it but he can’t help but feel like it’s not true because of the sparkly electricity shooting through him via the bond. It feels more like Steve /loves/ it. 

Neither of them say anything about it but they both perk up, acting giddier than before even while they both have been perfectly happy now there’s a little more joy packed between and around them. Everything’s brighter, shinier, nicer. Better. Somehow because if current Bucky asked past Bucky if he could be or feel better the answer would have been no, not short of a miracle. 

Steve must be his miracle.


	9. IX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shower sex aside, how will Bucky and Steve spend the rest of their Monday?

Breakfast, orgasms, and morning showers aside, so far all of them shared, monday starts slow. Falling back into shocking normalcy like the beating of hearts. 

Drying off after their shower isn't anywhere near as mischievous as it was going in. Little kisses traded here and there, sweet but promising more. Their libidos climb despite the tiny amount of recovery, bubbling back up under their skin, opposing the falling of their heart rates. Bucky wonders if they'll always be this hungry for one another or if they've raced past awkward moments and dates and paused in the honeymoon phase of a new relationship- not that the omega minds. In fact he'd be rather happy to stay in the honeymoon phase so long as Steve doesn't cause him to die of dehydration from slicking up so excessively. 

Stray kisses and impatient arousal aside, they walk over to Steve’s apartment complex so Steve can also get fresh clothes and a few other items for the rest of their day. Bucky tries to get his alpha to let him surprise him with a date that takes up most of their extra hours but Steve pulls him into his frame and Bucky melts like butter, weakened by his puppy-dog eyes and body heat and smell. His smell that has already taken on sweeter, softer notes that match Bucky’s- their smells melding together into one. 

Steve promises he’ll let Bucky do that eventually but right now his instincts are screaming at him to woo and court the omega as much as possible and that if he wasn’t doing that he might go insane. Bucky laughs and tells them that they could be the new Joker and Harley Quinn, butting their foreheads together. Steve does the thing where he throws his head back in laughter and grabs both Bucky and his own chest- he feels accomplished, softening and agreeing to let his alpha woo him to his heart's content. 

The walk from Steve’s apartment after he’s redressed takes them anywhere. Everywhere. Just about the city, where they both can point to things and tell stories and jerk each other around by their connected hands. Most of Steve’s stories are either, ‘hey that building burned down this one time’ or ‘hey I got beat up there’ or ‘when I was a kid that wasn’t what it is now but…’, it’s cute. Well- maybe not the stories about getting his ass handed to him but still. There’s something charming about how well he knows the city, how obvious he is in his love for it and how he wishes to share that with Bucky. 

His own stories are more along the lines of ‘I ate there once, the food is pretty good’ or ‘oh, yeah, my coworker recommended that place’... it’s making him realize he needs to go out more when he’s a lucid human being and not a walking zombie. The brunette tells this to his alpha, who smiles brightly, acknowledging that he feels that way all the time and most of the memories and stories he has are from work or before when he was still in school but that that could be something they work on; together. 

He likes the sound of that. /Together./

It’s a nice word, one he took for granted before there walking paced adventure. It makes him feel happy like the sunshine color of Steve’s hair, calm but simmering with excitement like the blue laced by peeks of green of Steve’s eyes, shy like the pink of Steve’s cheeks that comes out when he doesn’t understand something he probably should, and so, so many other things he can’t put his finger on beyond calling it love. Love is a good word too. Sweet, shy, and bitter. Bucky’s known the hue that’s mostly bitter thus far in his existence but… Steve is different. 

When those thoughts solidify in his brain he has to look at Steve. He imagines that the other man must be able to see it in his eyes, must be able to witness it in the braille of his pores, the whispered language of the sweep of his eyelashes, and certainly in the blissful ache of his cheeks from the constant pull of gleeful emotions on his lips. He has to see it. 

Whether he does or doesn’t Bucky will allow the mystery to prevail because Steve pulls him in for a kiss that shatters him while mending his tears all at once and everything in his mind other than the complex texture and rhythm of his lips leave. Birds moving south for warmer days. 

He knows they’ll return when they’re both warmer. Later, when they can be sure that the connection they share like childhood kisses under the slide, secretive and clueless, has legitimacy beyond ten days of knowing that the other is out there in the world. For now though, Bucky is content to pour his love into that kiss. Following Steve’s lips just the same way he knows he will for as long as he can keep treasuring this. 

Pulling apart feels like the pull of taffy kept soft in one’s pocket, easy and slow. 

The blonde asks him then what sounds good for lunch and Bucky’s stomach crumples in agreement, startling him, when had lunchtime come? Though his watch tells him it’s come and gone by about an hour and a half, it’s already one forty six, meaning they’ve been walking (more like exploring, at least on Bucky’s behalf) for just shy of three hours. Huh. 

Tacos from a cheery looking street vendor end up being their lunch of choice, the older woman, a beta, spying them while they window shop and shouting to them. Offering that they look like “taco people” and that she has a cart down this way if they’ll follow her (she’d left it so she could go to the bathroom). The woman is tall and lean, grey hair clearly long but bunched up under a hair net- she also has a worn latina accent that reminds Bucky of a patient he had the other week and he knows that she most likely does this a lot to get customers but he doesn’t care. 

He just tugs his alpha’s hand and drags them after her, giggling when he thinks of that past instagram trend of pretty, petite omega’s having their jacked alpha’s take pictures of their back and their interlocked hands. Leading him into whatever scenery is before them. He doesn’t mind feeling like that he discovers, not with Steve. Usually, meaning in his everyday life, he covers for his stereotypically omega traits so people will listen to him and all that but here he knows Steve will listen to him anyway. “Perfect” omega or not. 

There’s no line when they reach the vendor’s truck so they get to ordering right away, waiting a pleasantly short time before being handed their food. Bucky’s mouth waters. Steve laughs at him, tucking a stray strand of hair back behind his ear and teasing him that he looks like a vampire waiting to bite someone's neck. The omega cackles, nearly crushing both their food when he playfully lunges into pretend biting at Steve’s neck. 

The alpha’s bubbling libido spikes as does his own when he realizes how close his mouth is to biting at his scent gland. He freezes for a second, presses an innocent kiss to the precious skin before he second guesses himself and Steve catches himself before he growls aloud, it’s precariously close. Bucky can practically /hear/ it through the UIB, he bites his lip, cheeks pinking. 

They walk in mostly silence, though it isn’t awkward because somehow nothing ever is (or if it is, it's remedied at light speed), to the end of the boardwalk. Hand in hand. Steve with their to-go tacos in his other hand that’s not cradling Bucky’s- as if he’s scared to break it suddenly. 

After a few minutes of walking Bucky spots a bench sitting magically in the shade of the massive Coney Island sign that decorates the end of the walk like at the beginning. There’s other people around but they’re walking, passing by, not here to stay so it still feels like they are alone. Steve hums in acknowledgement and steers them there. 

Sitting next to each other, pressed together from shoulder to knee, they eat. Embracing the shade as easily as their silence. Steve breaks it first, smashes the ice with one of his out of the blue jokes that have a tendency to make his omega choke- either on words or food or spit or nothing at all. 

“Speaking of vampires, have you ever thought of bonding with someone?” Steve’s staring into the water, the hues of ocean blues meeting like waves at Cape Horn where the pacific and atlantic oceans meet without mixing. Bucky nods, finishing his chewing. 

“Yeah,” he knows Steve wanted to ask if Bucky thought about it with him but had phrased it as him asking generally in case he hasn’t. Giving him space to think and be his own person rather than forcing him to be an omega- Steve’s omega. He wants Steve to know he has thought about it with him but isn’t sure how to without being blunt as hell, so he dances around it clumsily. “Just with two people, the first time I was way too young, especially looking back but-”

“What about the second time?” Steve’s eyes meet his then, excited to know what the second part is, a few flames of hope dancing in a way that makes Bucky want to feed the fire until it engulfs them both. 

So he levels with him, flicking his eyes up from his lips to his eyes and stating- “The second time… I think it’s right, I think that it will happen just, just-”

“Later?” The alpha offers, uncharacteristically timid but on the same page as him, on the same line, the same individual word. Bucky keeps gazing into his eyes, boring his agreement and excitement and hope into Steve’s memory, into his very soul. This is definite. The same as their conversation about sharing the next cycle either of them go into, it will happen. Like their cycles, because they are with each other, no one knows when it will happen but it will. It has to, fate has already rolled the dice and landed on a number. The next step is to find out what that number means, it could be days, weeks, months, or even years. They’ll have to wait and see. 

The promise is sealed with a kiss. Just a kiss, no other alternative motive or anything, just a press of lips instead of a curling of two pinkies together. 

The time between lunch and dinner is spent at Steve’s apartment because the heat is too much to beat and Bucky’s AC does work, it just only releases arctic level cold air and Bucky has come to know that Steve doesn’t really being freezing cold. He’d rather be too warm than too cold- which makes sense, he muses, considering that he spends his time at work being more than too hot while charging into burning buildings. Steve’s AC is much less polar than the brunette's, giving them moderate chills, well, giving Bucky moderate chills. Steve isn’t bothered. 

He just sets Bucky’s legs into his lap without a second thought, sharing his body heat, providing enough of a difference in temperature that his goosebumps are banished without making Steve too warm. 

Some of the hours are spent with them both scrolling on their phones, some with Steve reading while Bucky scrolls, some with Steve scrolling and Bucky watching TV, a few with them both watching the TV, and the hours that aren’t occupied by that are either wasted in mutual naps (really just an excellent excuse to cuddle) or lazily making out. It’s simple. Domestic and overwhelmingly normal- like this happens every day and has been happening for most of his life. Or, in the least, it should’ve been happening his entire life. 

Dinner is Steve’s cooking again, rather than stir fry it’s roasted vegetables with chicken breast and some orgasmic tasting sauce this time, a green salad on the side that is unfairly good (like he hesitates to even call it a side because it feels rude to the salad). Bucky has a difficult time deciding which of the dishes he likes best and just gives up, telling Steve he can’t and won’t decide. It makes him laugh. It’s good. Easy and everything he wants. 

This time he does get Steve to let him clear their plates and wash the dishes but it’s still Steve, the most stubborn alpha he’s ever meant, so he helps. Drying and putting away the dishes once Bucky hands them over from being washed. 

Their early dinner is not followed by a movie marathon on the couch like Bucky assumed it would be, instead Steve sends him home with instructions to “gussy” himself up (and, no, he will never get over Steve’s constant peculiar word choice). He tells him to be ready by six forty five, giving him the better part of an hour to dress himself, and that he’ll be round to pick him up then. 

He can get no hints out of the older man. None, not even one tiny little idea of what he might be taking him to. 

Either way- Steve calls him an Uber, slating his lips with his own and sending him on his way. 

Bucky manages to get dressed quickly (mostly because he doesn’t really have any fancy clothes but that’s besides the point), it’s only six thirty, and has to sit on his couch with his body dressed up in his nicest wear while he head strips itself of logic and hides, naked, in the very corner of his skull. He wishes he could do the same- minus the naked part -even though he knows Steve would never do anything that he wouldn’t like. He just-

Bzzz. Bzzz. 

/You’re gonna have fun, I promise and if you don’t like it then that’s perfectly fine too. I’ll be over shortly, okay?/

Bucky smiles and nods at his phone dorkishly because Steve can’t even see him. He types back an /okay/ and tosses his phone to the other side of the couch, straightening his collar. 

He wasn’t able to find his slacks that go with the charcoal grey suit jacket he’s got on but Steve had said casual formal anyway… he’s hoping it’s okay. Under the jacket is his white button down shirt, the dress shirt that came with the suit minus the tie. Ties aren’t casual wear, not formal casual either. His pants are one of the more skinny fit pants he has, all black and nice, originally expensive too. No worn in grey patches or holes or anything that suggests they’ve been well used, new and neat, formal- in other words. His shoes are black too, as are his belt and minimalistic watch. 

His hair is up in the best messy-but-acceptable bun that he can manage; the hair that’s not strategically messy and puffy (a.k.a. just the ends of his hair in the bun) is slicked to his head neatly with a smaller number of strands plucked out than he would regularly. He wonders what Steve looks like suddenly… how formal is his version of semi formal? Is he going to wear that leather jacket instead of a suit jacket? Is he in a full suit? Does he have a tie? Did he just ask Bucky to get dressed up for no reason other than to see what he looks like when he does? Why-

Steve (asumidly) knocks at his door, once again becoming Bucky’s knight in shining armour. 

Being shoved out of his head startles him, “coming!” he rasps, pretending to still be getting ready. Padding over to the mirror in the entryway, the bowl contains his keys and wallet and other odds and ends of things just below it- he looks kind of stuffy he realizes. 

He huffs out a breath, unbuttoning the top three buttons of his shirt when he inhales. 

Better, he thinks. Gathering himself and running a finger gently along his hairline to collect the stray bit of hair, tucking it in behind his ear. As satisfied with himself as he’ll get, Bucky turns and reaches for the door handle, finding himself breathing easier at the mere idea of being with his alpha again. 

Bucky stops functioning. 

Steve looks- he looks… he looks like he belongs in some important building down in DC. He looks important. Powerful. Authoritative. Simultaneously looking older and younger, like some progressive hot shot politician that you can’t help but root for and melt under the idea of them. 

His shoulders are pulling harshly at the buttons of his dark navy blue shirt, if his chest was any bigger those buttons might be /screaming/ or flying off of the fabric, though around his trim waist it looks like the shirt has been altered. Otherwise there would be no way that the shirt fits him that well, his proportions are too fucking rediculous for it not to have be tailored. His pants are a few shades lighter but still a deep navy, they’re also very well fitted, clinging to his thick, muscular thighs before falling loose the farther down they go- similar to the way his shirt fits. His suit jacket is hung over his left arm and seems to be the same shade of navy as his slacks. 

He’s not wearing a tie but instead has the top couple of buttons of his shirt undone. For a giddy second Bucky theorizes that it’s because he bought this suit a while ago and is now too muscular to get it fully buttoned and not choke himself. And speaking of choking-

“Buck,” Steve expertly cuts the omega’s thoughts off, practically glowing pink. 

Bucky’s eyes fly up to his alpha’s face that he had ignored in favor of gawking at the bulge in his slacks, finally starting to blush now that his hindbrain isn’t yelling at him to fuck whatever their date is going to be and tear that suit off of him right now. He swallows to wet his throat, squeaking out a rough, “yeah?” 

“You look,” he pauses, searching his vernacular for the correct word, “perfect.” A hand coming up to re-tuck a strand of hair, his fingertips brushing his temple in the process. Bucky shivers under the touch. Thanking him shyly. 

The pair has to use all of the extra ten minutes to get from Bucky’s entryway down to the waiting Uber. Maybe a little longer. 

On the ride over, one that takes them from the center of the city to the opposite side of where they’d gone to get to that fifties style diner. It’s the “higher” side of Brooklyn- the expensive side where people who grew up in the city return to once they’ve gotten rich or famous or both. Steve asks Bucky if he’s ever been to the opening of an art gallery before, and he hasn’t, so he tells this to Steve. Quirking his head to the side and openly guessing that’s what they’re doing- he’s correct. Why though it has to be in the higher end of the city he’s not entirely sure but he figures it’s got to do with their outfits.

The building is unassuming looking, simple and boring in the way he’s taken to understand means something is special or lavish. Especially with architecture it seems. 

There isn’t even a sign to indicate that the building is an art gallery, the only clues he can find as to knowing it is are the windows, if the huge glass floor to ceiling windows can be called windows, and the roman style sculpture of a woman outside the front entrance. A grand entrance it looks like. With three flights of stairs heading up to wide double doors, completely glass doors at that. 

The lights inside are white, pure but not overwhelming. Mood lighting Bucky supposed with a poorly concealed snort, one that Steve gives him a bit of a strange but amused look for. 

Bucky inquires how Steve got them into this place- it looks like it’s a place you need to have tickets or a reservation to get into it. Also like it has a dress code. And if Steve is right that there will be served alcohol it surely will be pricey and smooth, very possibly also the kind that gets you drunk impressively fast without tasting or feeling like you’re drunk until you’re well on your way to doing-embarrassing-things-that-I’ll-never-speak-about town. 

Steve hooks an arm around his waist. Grinning and wiggling his fingers where they rest at his hip, putting his lips flush with the tip of Bucky’s ear whispering, “how good are you at pretending to be snooty?” 

Bucky’s head starts to tip back just a hair before he catches himself, come on, he thinks, he didn’t even say anything like /that/. His voice is just already so, so arousing that he doesn’t even need to say anything suggestive, he just has to open his mouth and he’s got Bucky practically stumbling over his own feet. Fuck, Steve could read him one of his recipes and Bucky would be more than ready to get on his knees for him.

Chastising himself he responds, “snooty?” 

“Yeah, uhm, like- rich and turning your nose up at anything that’s not to your liking. Think bitchy popular girl in your highschool but grown up and married to some super rich guy that’s not exactly a philanthropist.” Steve explains, still hushing the words into Bucky’s ear in a strange brand of torture. It’s not doing Bucky’s attention span any favors. 

“Snooty. Okay, how then-” he pauses, walking through the glass door that Steve has opened for him. “Did you get tickets? Or, like, an invite. Whatever you have to do to get into one of these…” 

“A friend.” Steve shoots back, wolfish grin painting his handsome face. 

“A snooty friend?” Bucky teases. 

“No,” Steve pretends to be offended, touching his chest in a way that needlessly calls attention to the swell of his pecs constrained by his shirt. “How do you think I knew what a philanthropist was?” He laughs a little, his eyes scrunching around the corners, by the time he finishes his sentence. Joyed with the idea that Bucky cares enough to know about his friends. 

As they wander the building that’s got just as many sharp angles and clean lines on the inside as on the outside (re: it’s just as boring on the inside as the outside) they’re offered several glasses of champagne and wine each. Bucky finds that he likes champagne more. It’s bubbly and light and sweet and kinda just like the best soda he’s ever had with the end bite of sour from the alcohol. Steve tells him that he’s kind of like champagne. Sweet and bubbly when he agrees but unhesitating to do what needs to be done. 

Bucky doesn’t know how touched he should be but it doesn’t matter because he’s already beyond tispy. He just leans more of his weight onto Steve, who takes it like a metal, wearing his omega on his arm with pride. 

Steve keeps with the wine, handing glasses of champagne that he passes to Bucky instead. Every time he’s given a new wine he sniffs it first before swirling his glass and trying to make the movement look effortless (it’s really not) going on about the taste and body or legs on it to Bucky. Bucky knows nothing about wine but he knows Steve’s full of shit. 

He giggles each time regardless. 

Nodding eagerly, asking his boyfriend more about the body or what the hell else he says about it, encouraging him and keeping eyes on him while Steve looks at the people around them. Hoping to find the people who obviously know they have no idea about what they are doing and avoid them before they can get kicked out. Bucky couldn’t stop laughing at one point so Steve had set their half full glasses on the bench they’d been sitting on in order to pretend they were analyzing the painting in front of them (and not that they were sneakily trading kisses when no one else was around them), he guides Bucky to the nearest bathroom them. Allowing him to get all his giggles out in the privacy of became essentially an echo chamber at that point. 

They don’t make it much longer after that, not when the brunette is giggling at everything Steve does or says and is swaying on his feet. Steve isn’t much better off, his additional seven inches of height and fifty or sixty pounds helping him out a lot against the three and a half glasses of wine. Bucky having had only two glasses in total, but it’s not like that matters, he is a lightweight after all. 

Stumbling down the stairs after they peruse the entirety of the gallery is a journey and a half. First because they’re trying to not act like drunk hooligans seeing as it’s obvious that the people surrounding them are used to drinking this much and therefore are hardly affected- excluding the woman in heels that are higher than three inches. Second because they are both dangerously close to bursting out into hysterical laughter thanks to the alcohol, reason two and a half being that Bucky and Steve are evenly matched in terms of unsteadiness. Third because they’re both feeding into the connection between them and it’s had both of them barely warding off semis all night. 

Bucky tells Steve, while plastered to his side, that he’s very glad he’s not a woman because there is no way in hell he could handle walking in heels and if he was in “those fucking things” Steve would have to carry him, as if Steve isn’t mostly carrying him anyway. 

Steve can’t hold back his laughter then so they end up causing a scene after all. Standing at the base of the stairs amid a handful of other couples while in tears, grabbing at each other to stay upright, and gasping as mild pain grasps at their sides and cheeks.


	10. X

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tuesday holds lots of things for Bucky and Steve, like attending a workout class together and then having another... workout... when they get back home.

Tuesday morning is found through sticky mouths, hammering heads, and groggy groans. 

Steve is awake next to him, his groans likely having been the one’s to wake Bucky, his head tipped back while his arms bracket Bucky’s chest. His chest to the younger man’s back, their legs fully knotted together, Steve’s mild morning wood pressed to his ass. Bucky doesn’t mind this time. He can’t mind, not really, when his head is stuffed with cotton and tiny elves are pulling it out of his ears. 

He groans in agreement, finding Steve’s shoulder and kissing it worshipfully, “hangovers, woo!” he rasps plainly. Steve’s chest shakes with his soft laugh, nuzzling the back of his neck, breathing him in. A rumble of agreement meets Bucky’s words rather than more words- he feels that. 

Steve squeezes him tighter, nosing the mess that must be his hair, “nooo” he whines. Voice thick with leftover alcohol and sleep, Bucky can /hear/ the stubbornness in his voice. Coming into his own brain a little more he privately grins. Pretending to give up the fight until…

He shifts innocuously. Or he starts off that way, a few seemingly innocent shifts down and he presses his ass against Steve half-interested cock. Forcing him to not fight between regretting his drinking choices last night and paying attention to the barely dressed omega before him, he groans. In a good way. 

Bucky uses his moment of weakness to remove himself from his alpha’s hold, slipping through his literal fingers. He gets to his feet accompanied by starry patches of blotchy black crowding his vision, swaying in place. He is planning on locating some painkillers and water. 

And lots of both at those. 

Flopping onto the couch in a very similar position as they’d been in bed just vertical this time isn’t that great of a feat but it sure feels like one when running just the placebo of their Aspirin flavored coffee before it actually hits them. 

Steve cards a hand through Bucky’s still wild hair while he admires his chest, where his eyes have been basically glued since seeing it in that fucking shirt last night. Said shirt is crumpled on the floor of his bedroom- not for the fun reason, just because Steve overheats at night if he wears clothes and had haphazardly stripped before falling into bed. Steve having explained to Bucky- while they literally hung off of each other -that that was NOT why he had Tony reserve a spot for them at the gallery’s opening. He didn’t want to get his omega drunk so he could fuck him. 

The omega in question pointed out how had that been his plan it wouldn’t have worked considering he got drunk too and that he wasn’t that drunk. 

Bucky recalls pointing out how Steve was basically just the same amount of drunk as he was and so technically that argument didn’t apply anyway. Steve had struggled for words, batting at Bucky’s sly hands and laughing. Once they had moved to the bedroom it was looking like a less and less appealing idea, fucking that is. Steve summed it up phenomenally; kissing the words out of his mouth, “Buck, I- I want to do this. With you. But I don’t want to throw up on you.” 

They had slept then. Stripping with different intentions than a few seconds prior.

Now they’re both naked, save for their boxers, and spread out in a puddle on the couch when Steve reminds him that he needs to go grab clothes from his place before they do anything. However he also confesses that he doesn’t want to get redressed in his fancy dress because that would mean he has to move. 

Bucky teases him, “oh, you poor thing.” 

Steve snorts into his hair before kissing the top of his head like he’s apologizing for his own un-gentlemanly actions, “mhm” he agrees sleepily. 

“I’d offer to let you borrow something of mine but you’d, like, rip anything I’m afraid. Which is why you should get dressed… then, when you come back, bring a couple changes of clothes with you to have here for-” it all falls out of his mouth before he can catch what he’s saying. Steve definitely hears it though. Bucky stays in the exact position he has been in, not daring to do anything but breath.

“Really?” He sounds shocked. Bucky looks up and, yeah, he is shocked. He looks like an over excited pup on Christmas that’s been given a toy that he really didn’t think he would get- Bucky kisses the look right off his face after poking a finger into his cheek. 

“Yeah, dummy.” He breathes out. 

Steve seems much more willing to move after that. And much more energetic, suddenly not bogged down by his hangover, in fact, had Bucky not woken up with him or been sandwiched between him and the couch for the last ten minutes he wouldn’t have known or guessed that he had one. Bucky grumbles, throwing an arm over his eyes. 

Biting his cheek in effort of not busting out in laughter when Steve pauses his humming in order to plant a sloppy kiss on his cheek, wishing his head mending and claiming he’ll be back in as little time as possible. That he’s gonna run to his apartment and come back. Bucky believes him, he could see his alpha running there and returning all sweaty and…

Bucky uses the same arm he was blocking sunlight with to hook around the back of Steve’s neck, holding him down so their faces are inches away. He surges up with a low purr, claiming Steve’s lips and biting down once he’s had his fill of innocent kissing. Steve groans right into his mouth, falling forward more so he has a hand on either side of Bucky’s head, his lips part for his alpha’s tongue. 

He makes a relieved noise into his mouth while separating them. Then grabs a fistfull of Steve’s hair, at the top where it’s long enough to grip and control his head, making the blonde look at the ceiling so he’s got room to work on giving him a very noticeable hickey that just skirts the edge of his scent gland. Steve’s knees buckle a little, his body inadvertently caging Bucky in. A grunt falling from his lax mouth when it spurs Bucky on. 

A couple more seconds of gnawing is all he needs to paint his alpha’s neck bright red against the pale flush of his skin, he kisses it once more because he can and lets go of Steve’s gorgeous hair. Smirking at the arousal that’s plain as day in his heavily lidded eyes. 

“There,” is the only explanation Bucky gives him along with a pat on the chest. Dismissing him to go about dressing himself so he can go to his own home and return with treasures for Bucky to keep at his. Steve looks bewildered, standing back up in obedience to the little push his omega gives him, finishing doing up his slacks while his shirt still fully open hangs around his chest. He looks like some deity as represented by a stone sculpture. 

All hard cuts of muscle and smooth skin. It almost makes Bucky waltz up to him and climb him like a tree… the only thing that’s stopping him is the satisfaction in knowing he’ll have to wander around the city looking and /smelling/ like him. Looking like he belongs to his omega. 

Steve growls. His hands abandon the buttons of his shirt to prowl towards Bucky’s perch on the couch. 

“Yours,” he roughly breaths out against Bucky’s uptilted lips. Breath smelling like coffee and washing over Bucky’s skin, he nearly fucking squeaks but squirms instead. Feeling absolutely /tiny/, with his legs curled to the side while he slouches, in comparison to the tall, wide frame of Steve who towers over him when they are both standing anyway. Meaning now- forget feeling intimidated by the sheer difference of their sizes. Bucky feels overwhelmed with it. 

“Yeah, ‘mega, ‘m yours. That what that was, huh? That little show of marking me up- you jealous? Or just possessive? Wanna make sure your alpha walks around looking like he just knotted his omega?” 

Bucky can’t fucking breath. 

He can’t fucking do anything. His entire world has been shrunk down to the hot shame of Steve word’s and his equally hot breath, sending shivers down the back of his neck and sparks up his spine from between his legs. 

Steve brushes his lips over the shell of Bucky’s ear, “was that it honey? Huh?” 

Bucky can’t answer him with anything but a whimper.

“Yeah, yeah that’s it.” He chuckles darkly, walking his hands lower on the back of the couch so they sit right above the younger’s shoulders. Moving his mouth lower and finding the same place Bucky had on him to lave over the skin. Leaving a mark with his lips, teeth, and the beginnings of stubble that’s grown in over night, Bucky’s breathing somehow gets faster. His toes curl. 

Steve pulls back, already returning to the task of buttoning up his shirt and so Bucky let’s out the most pitiful pup whine that he can. That’s not fair, Steve’s mark on him was at least half over his scent gland and he’s a moment away from being fully hard in his boxers. He shifts, squirming and knowing that his alpha can smell that he’s getting slick. 

Picking up his shoes Steve leaves Bucky with “two can play at that game Buck. I’ll see you in a bit.” Managing to be dominating and dorky with the mock salute he gives before shutting the door. Bucky grinds his ass back into the couch with a frustrated whimper. Not fair. 

Seeing as most of the rest of that day is devoted to teasing (and not getting off even /once/) Bucky goes for it. Steve has been home for just an hour and a half but it doesn’t matter. 

Bucky’s ruined /two/ pairs of underwear in one day (he’s currently on his way to a third) because of his stupid alpha, the first being that morning after he’d left to shower and change. A text coming in like any afterthought, /btw you should wait for me, I know you have multiple in you but.../. 

Bucky hadn’t even had to ask for confirmation about what that meant, he hadn’t even typed a response out. He’s just humped into the heel of his hand and back down onto the pillow he’d stuffed under his ass once more each before getting up off of the couch so he could shower and change- just the same as Steve. 

And /so what/ if he’d spent nearly an hour in the bathroom checking out the sizable mark on his neck afterwards, meaning a good ninety percent of his time in the bathroom was devoted to seeing it from every angle possible. If that did happen it’s not like he’s going to tell anyone about it. 

His next ruined pair had been from cuddling. Just. Cuddling. 

Steve seemed to be more than happy to ignore his raging hard on and pretend to be napping on and off while holding Bucky to his chest like a damn octopus, making sure every time he shifted his cock brazenly fitted itself just under his ass in such a perfect way that it was between his cheeks. Even when he was sure he couldn’t take it any longer- like, he was about ready to throw his head back and wail until Steve agreed to put his cock in him. Or at least let Bucky get off. 

Then, purely coincidentally- just life cockblocking him -Steve’s boss called him, wanting to check up on his employee who definitely didn’t need to still be on leave for smoke inhalation despite still having a day and a half left. 

Bucky had been able to escape to the bathroom to change his soaked underwear (and his sweatpants- which he hadn’t leaked fully through thankfully) then. So, small victories. 

Now, standing in front of a selection of workout clothes he’s on his way to a third because he’s imagining which of these will make Steve lose his mind the most. This is about teasing revenge after all. Realistically he knows that all of them will make him lose it seeing as they’re all composed of leggings and some sort of tank top or stupidly tight compression shirt. 

He’s already texted and confirmed that Steve will be joining him for his evening yoga class, his plan having started with the intention to show off to Steve just how flexible he is without allowing Steve to get his hands on him (hence the public setting of a yoga class) but he needed more. So that had become his focus as he collected his gear from around his apartment. 

Bucky had ended up going with the excuse that Steve had complained of how often he got cramps while running via text and truthfully telling him stretching would help, he had innocently asked if that was still happening. When the blonde had confirmed that Bucky offered that the more stretching and the longer the session the better, causing him to complain that he didn’t really know how to stretch. 

Bucky pounced then. 

Suggesting he attend his weekday yoga classes with him, that he doesn’t have to always come but just to give him a basis for what he could or should be doing. Steve agreed, clearly thinking directly about the logistics of it. 

So that’s why he’s stuck trying to decide which of his yoga tops would be best. His compression tops would be fun because they would be a fantastic, direct retaliation to the body hugging wear Steve prefers and how much it shows off when he does that. However, all the compression shirts he owns are also dri-fit. So they wick sweat and in this situation he isn’t sure that he doesn’t want to be sweaty- if he’s sweaty then he’ll reek of pheromones, hell, he’ll be dripping with them. 

His tank tops would allow him to sweat but also aren’t form fitting, meaning he can’t give Steve some of his own medicine. That and they won’t show off all of his form unless he sweats so much that they stick to him, usually only hot yoga does that to him so that isn’t likely to happen… 

What the hell, he thinks after grabbing his phone. 

He’s only got twenty minutes to grab Steve and get to the studio, he’s already put on the leggings he’s decided to wear so that’s done but what about the shirt? He spins himself around three times with his eyes closed and grabs the first thing he lands on; something he’s seen his younger sister, Becca, do before. 

He’s got a fistful of a plain grey tank top, the sleeves made to look like he’d just cut up a t-shirt and called it good, the hem is just a tiny bit cropped, if it’s even enough to call cropped, with the end of shirts rest at the middle of his hip bones rather than below them. It’s not his fanciest top but now that he’s made up his mind he figures it shouldn’t be. He has yet to let Steve in on his game. 

This time Bucky’s not the one to freeze up when a door is opened between him, well, he can’t be sure that monday night Steve didn’t also freeze because he was a little busy checking him out but… still. The notion stands. The whole way over he’d been thinking about what Steve would have decided to wear and he’s correct so he doesn’t freeze. 

But Steve does. 

His eyes immediately drop to his legs which are swathed in black, skin tight leggings that have mesh panels above the knees that cut across horizontally before twitching up and cutting with the line of muscle at the side of his thigh. Steve’s eyes trace those reverently. Then they keep going up, meeting Bucky’s poorly hidden bulge and the front of his leggings where his shirt has been tucked. 

Bucky clears his throat and laughs, maybe he even giggles, he didn’t even plan this part, “prepared to get sweaty with me?” 

Steve makes a low, possessive sound, stepping out of his apartment with a drawstring bag thrown over one shoulder. His hands reach out, stroking his hips and upper thighs greedily, chasing the feeling of the smooth fabric under his hands. He keeps staring at how he’s dressed Bucky realizes, snapping out of the lull of being touched like this after being so denied throughout the day. 

He steps away, denying himself now, covering his move by starting to shut Steve’s door for him, “ready? I don’t want to be late.” 

Steve doesn’t respond beyond a roughened, “sure… yeah. I- yeah.” 

Bucky internally giggles and screams simultaneously, closing the door and checking to make sure it’s locked, “Steve.” He says, pretending to be warning him, “I can /feel/ you staring at my ass.” He ruins his own game a little, giggling as he turns and sees Steve’s jaw on the floor, he takes pity on him. Not knowing his plan would be so effective against his alpha, they meet eyes, “c’mere” he twitches his head to the side. 

Steve steps forward, looking warily at him; Bucky feels bad about making him think he was annoyed with him. 

He grabs at his hips when he’s close enough, feeling the thick band of his gym shorts under his fingers and the band of his boxers. He smiles warmly at his alpha, watching his shoulders drop. Bucky removes his hands from his waist, trailing them up his sides and ribs before dropping down his arm, intertwining their fingers just before guiding Steve’s massive palms to sit square on his ass. Steve makes an involuntary noise, pulling Bucky forward by his ass and smashing their lips together. 

Bucky lets out a hungry gasp, allowing Steve some time to play, now knowing that his predicted reaction for Steve to have will be much, much more intense and hoping this might burn some of that off. 

Steve’s playing is apparently just groping him while stealing all his air, using his wide hands to grab literally the entirety of his ass and pull him forward so their beginnings of erections brush together. It makes Bucky moan into his mouth, panting wetly and trying to find some kind of purchase on his shoulders (which, yes, are covered by a sinfully tight dri-fit shirt like he figured they would be). 

To get Steve’s attention Bucky pinches his ass, bursting into laughter when he yelps. The laughing makes it much harder to talk and therefore much harder to tell him they’re gonna be late so he just removes one of Steve’s hands from his ass and tugs him towards the elevators. 

The alpha lags behind him. No doubt staring at his ass while he walks, mentally shrugging, Bucky puts some extra swing in his hips. Giddiness spiking to an all time high when he feels the sharp and deep stab of arousal that shoots through Steve. 

Bucky purposefully has been paying the utmost attention to the instructor, a very nice, momma-bear type woman called Pepper, well, Virginia technically but who’s Bucky to judge a strange nickname. He feels it through and through, both the interesting nickname because Bucky is nowhere near James in the same way her names are separate and also because he appreciates the matching first letters. Pepper Potts. His own being Bucky Barnes. He thinks it’s funny, they bonded over it after his first class, and he also just respects the woman anyway. 

Pepper owns this studio and many others, though the exact number changes so often Bucky can’t keep up, and the ones she doesn’t own on the east coast she manages. She’s the, like, supreme goddess of yoga studios. 

And all that aside she is an interesting woman, just not interesting enough to warrant the amount of direct staring Bucky’s been doing which has made her stare back at him, confused as to why a pro like himself is so into making sure he gets the moves right. 

But with the class having ended he now has to look back at his likely very tortured alpha or risk letting him know just what he planned and executed, Pepper seems to realize at the very last second. Smirking and shaking her head in place of that squinty and disbelieving look she’s been giving him. 

Steve looks much worse off than Bucky imagined. 

They had arrived late and so the only open spots were with one in front of the other, Steve had suggested that Bucky take the one closer to the front so he could parrot his moves. Normally Bucky would’ve fussed, saying he should be closer but considering the journey that was getting the both of them there in time he agreed. 

Now Steve’s standing with his bag placed strategically, having already gotten up from corpse pose, his cheeks reddened in a way that to others could and will be played off to the other’s in the class as him being a new-comer but Bucky sees right through it. His eyes are darkened and heavy and that blush is too dark to just be from exertion, not with the way he works out when he’s on his own. 

His tight shirt showing off his hardened nipples in just as obvious fashion as his loose gym shorts would if he removes the bag from its place over his crotch. His jaw tightens impulsively when Bucky steps forward, clearly from the way he smells, sweaty and, well, /ripe/ probably. Bucky smiles sweetly, pretending he can’t feel the arousal washing over and dripping off of Steve, knowing his alpha is hard enough to pound nails.

“How’d you like the class?” 

Steve’s eyes find his after an inappropriate amount of time, he just nods. Not having even heard the question Bucky asked- Bucky can’t say he minds. He tugs them out of the class and to the side of the road, suddenly wishing he’d driven or made Steve because now they have to get in the back of a taxi and keep their hands off of each other. 

Steve hooks and arms around his waist and Bucky yelps as he’s pulled into his alpha’s side. 

They stick together, both of them sweaty and tired, Steve growls low- making sure no one else can hear it. Bucky tilts his head to the side without thinking about it while he searches for a taxi. Steve sees it and bends down, laving his tongue over the side of his omega’s neck. 

Bucky moans. 

Loud enough he’s sure some of the other lingering people from their class heard it, he doesn’t dare look behind them to know though, he just fights against his legs that want to collapse and the impulse to make more noises because Steve’s hand has found its way back to his ass. He pants, hopefully discreetly, into the evening air. Pleasure lighting up his sweat drenched body, making his pants tighter than before and… wetter than before. 

“Sssteve.” He whines weakly, all his breath leaving him suddenly, batting a hand softly at the blonde’s chest. Steve rumbles, deep in his chest, unhappy at having Bucky for trying to remove him from his neck. “Taxi.” The omega breathes out, struggling with the sensation of Steve mouthing directly at his scent gland- chasing the pheromones pouring off of him like he can taste them. 

Steve moves them then, detaching himself from practically mauling his neck. 

The door opens in front of him, courtesy of his alpha, and he’s getting in. Sitting down and hoping to fucking god that he’s not leaking through his thin yoga pants. He winces, smelling the strong potency of their combined scents that overwhelms the clean, fresh scent of the inside, god, it’s almost choking him so he can’t imagine what it’s like for the driver… 

“Where to?” She’s looking over her shoulder, she’s petite and pretty, clearly trying not to breathe in but seems to be a beta. A small victory. 

Steve spits out his address shortly, or as short as someone who’s had their manners pummeled into them can. Bucky fumbles with his wallet, and pulls out a pair of twenties. One twenty would normally be more than enough but… 

He shoves it into her hand while his own fingers tremble, ignoring her surprised expression, he knows- believe him, he does, he lived in NYC -that usually you pay after but he has the feeling that if he waits they’ll tumble out of her car and not pay. So he goes for it now. She seems to understand, smiling politely before turning around. Putting her attention briefly to the radio- the sound surrounds them.

Bucky’s eyes widen and he turns to Steve, blush painting his cheeks- oh god. She turned the radio up because she thinks- she thinks that they’re gonna, oh. Oh. That’s, that’s not- 

Steve looks more civil now. Silently agreeing with Bucky in their shock. 

Despite that the alpha can’t help himself, all of but a minute later scooting Bucky closer- and goddamn him, he /knows/ Bucky has a thing for being manhandled - as if they aren’t already pressed together from the shoulders to thighs. Bucky feels the telltale rush of superheated blood towards his entrance, he lets his head roll back. Fuuuck. He might not survive this drive. He’s definitely not going to come out in one piece at the least.

Steve’s hand strokes up the inside of his thigh and, oh hell, his pants are doing nothing with dulling that sensation. He turns his head helplessly towards Steve, “stop.” He hisses quietly, not entirely serious, he wouldn’t even think about stopping him in any other situation, but he’s also not prepared to have to force this poor beta to clean his mess. 

His stupidly attractive boyfriend cocks- and okay, that is not the word to use right now! He /tilts/ his head to the side, inquiring silently about what he’s doing wrong. All the while inching his hand up higher. Bucky closes his eyes, squeezing his legs together and thinking: you know, you goddamn menace. 

Steve’s hand doesn’t leave.

It’s just sandwiched between his legs where he’s rapidly growing damp and not from sweat now, just sitting and- and… his train of thought is lost because Steve’s other hand is pulling at his ponytail. What? 

And what he means to say is ‘Steve?’ but what he ends up saying is, “Alpha?” 

Steve growls ferally. His trapped hand grabbing at the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, Bucky keens through his teeth while his hair comes loose. Oh. His muscles become entirely useless then, meaning his legs fall more open than before with a soft sigh. Steve smells it then. He growls again, it’s a hungry, deep, possessive sound. 

“Oh- ‘mega.” He offers thickly, nosing at his forehead. He lowers his voice to a point where Bucky’s not sure if he’s talking out loud or if Bucky’s hearing his words through their UIB. “That’s what’s up with you? You don’t wanna leak all over do you?” 

Bucky’s tongue tied. Fuck. He might be actively choking on his tongue. Who’s to say. 

“Huh, ‘mega?” Steve grabs a chunk of his thigh again. Bucky’s lips tremble with the effort of not wailing aloud, he mewls anyway, defenceless to the sounds that want to escape him. Steve kisses him, gentle and perfectly juxtaposed to the rest of his actions. 

The driver coughs. 

She startles them both, making blushes of mortification rather than of arousal bloom over their faces, her face in the rearview mirror seems amused. She waves the twenties at him, “this is your stop I think.” 

Bucky manages a quick, “thanks” before Steve yanks him out of the car. 

Somehow neither of them touch each other in the elevator. Instead they just steal glances and sentence fragments, the enclosed area of the elevator no better than the taxi in the way of more or less hot-boxing them in their scents. Bucky’s gonna have to shower like eight fucking times to get the smell off of himself. If he has to- which, eventually. He’s not gonna have fun when he has to. 

Standing side by side and not touching is bad. Awful. Torturous. 

It’s horrendous but Steve all of the sudden seems concerned with public decency, Bucky looks up at the floor counter. There’s two left… then one. Then the doors are opening, sliding apart to reveal that there’s no one in the hallway. Bucky’s mind takes that observation as a challenge. A giggle bubbles up out of Bucky’s throat, a steps out quickly, only throwing a breathy challenge out behind him to where Steve seems glued to the wall. 

“Chase me.”

Steve’s eyes widen, practically snarling as he darts forward after him. 

Bucky doesn’t give a flying fuck about neighbours or floors below them or anything else in that moment, giggling without stopping to breath as he runs down the hall towards Steve’s apartment. His entrance and dick throbbing as he runs, had he not been in compression leggings he knew the insides of his thighs would be sliding together slickly. For now though, his legs rub a sweet toruture on his hole and dick, his underwear providing just enough friction to set his blood on fire. 

Steve catches up to him a few feet from his door, knocking him to the floor like an overexcited puppy seeing their owner for the first time since they went to work.

Bucky goes willingly, not even having to think about protecting his head from the fall because Steve’s already there, the brunette melts under his heat like ice cream on a hot day. His chest heaving and heating with excitement when Steve straddles him. Managing to avoid touching his dick from the difference in their sizes, instead pinning his thighs by perching his ass on them. 

Once again caging him in with his big body. 

Bucky’s eyes roll back in his head without his consent when Steve growls and bites down teasingly on his jaw, dragging his front teeth down the cleft in his chin quickly. His lips fall open with a soundless moan. Oh fuck. Fuck. He might- he might cum right here. Pinned to the floor. He might- 

His legs spread themselves like they’ve got their own conscience just as his mouth finds actual words again, “please, alpha.” Working its way out of his mouth despite his too thick tongue and lazy lips, he watches how it affects his alpha. Pleasure zings through his body with the widening of Steve’s eyes, a grunt getting punched out of his chest. 

Steve comes to his senses first. Realizing just where he had Bucky pinned flat on his back... on the hallway floor of his apartment building. And that anyone could come by and see, so he pulls Bucky up. Bucky just being dead weight, his lean limbs just miles of easy tanned sugar and syrup. 

“C’mon, Buck.” Bucky hears himself whine while he tries to get his feet under himself. He faintly knows that it’s not late enough to be able to expect someone to not walk by and see them but the other ninety nine percent of him wants to be taken in the hallway. Fucked raw. Pushed around to wherever, however his alpha wants him. He wants-

Steve growls, kisses his wrist and orders “inside.” 

Bucky does what comes naturally, he obeys.

If not for the hazy trip that Bucky can remember from the door to the bed he’d be convinced he passed out, or died from a heart attack and is currently experiencing heaven because Steve’s bed smells so good. It smells like him. Strongly. 

It’s good, it has him leaking even more. 

And that has Steve panting and asking roughly while petting down his hips and thighs, “please tell me I can take your clothes off.” Bucky wiggles on the bed, jutting his hips up like Steve’s already pulling his leggings down and whining and uncontrolled in his own mind. He wants that. He does but his stupid fucking mouth won’t do anything but make helpless noises that hopefully sound something like ‘please’. Steve stops touching him. Bucky feels pressure behind his eyes that threaten oncoming tears, he didn’t want that!

“Buck,” Steve’s voice (he’s still not touching him dammit) soothes, emerging from the fog that’s encasing Bucky’s like an atmosphere. “Bucky,” he tries again, “tell me you want that- if you do -‘kay?” 

Bucky struggles for a long time, more lucid but still a little out there, “hnng,” is as far as he gets before Steve’s scruffing him. Pulling soft sounds out of his throat and making his entrance throb unbearably between his legs. 

Steve releases his grip and Bucky’s eyes open. Coming up from his frantic need. 

The only thing he manages is a nod and “please”. Thank god it’s good enough for Steve because Bucky’s dick and hole feel swollen and achy and the last time he remembers needing it this bad was when he didn’t read his body that well and transitioned into heat in the middle of a marathon edging session with his ex-dom, omega girlfriend. He moans desperately as if Steve’s grabbed his dick when his yoga pants are pulled off his legs. 

He doesn’t even have to lift his own hips off of the bed because Steve’s there, doing it for him. One arm bracing the small of his back and the other working them down below his ass. Bless Steve for having gotten them both out of their shoes at some point after entering his apartment because now his pants can just slide off. No interruptions. 

His pants are the only thing to come off, Steve doesn’t bother with anything else aside from rucking up his shirt to expose his stomach and flushed chest. Not even taking off his own shorts or shirt, just laying himself over Bucky’s squirming form and rumbling “want you to do something for me, my pretty little ‘mega, you up for that?” 

Bucky’s nodding before he’s done with his sentence, agreeing blindly and knowing whatever Steve’s asking will be good. He trusts him entirely. 

“That’s good baby, real good-” the desperate omega keens from the heat washing over him from the praise, interrupting his alpha briefly, Steve chuckles. Bucky’s brain short circuits. He chokes on another noise, savoring the paths of fire on his skin that the blonde’s hands provide. “ ‘Mega,” he orders, grabbing Bucky’s chin and making sure he hears his incoming words. Wanting to see his every little reaction to what he’s going to say. 

“ ‘Mega, I want to see you touch yourself. Wanna see how you make yourself feel good- wanna,” he stops for a moment to pant, his lust dark eyes swallowing Bucky’s rapt expression. “Wanna watch as you make yourself feel good. Can you do that for me?” 

Bucky’s only answer is a moan, wrecked and embarrassed. Does Steve really want that? Really want to see him-

“Yeah. Yeah” Steve growls, nosing his sweaty hair, “wanna see what you do when no one’s looking.” 

His words hit Bucky like a punch to the gut, melting his insides and forcing his hips up to grind against his abs like a magnet to metal. His neck arches, fuck, that- that sounds /good/. But he, he doesn’t want to not have Steve’s hands on him. He’s not sure he’ll be able to function without them. 

Who’s to say if Bucky voices his thoughts or if Steve just picks up on them because before he knows what’s happening the older of the two is gnawing at the junction between his neck and shoulder, a deep, inaudible growl vibrating in his chest. He mouths his words into the abused skin, sending Bucky’s head reeling with pleasure, “you do what I want and I won’t be able to keep my hands off of you for long. You start it…” he bites down gently and a load of slick forces its way down the sides of his legs. He pants wetly, overwhelmed. 

“You start it and I’ll finish it.” He promises darkly. 

Then Bucky can’t prevent himself, can’t torture himself any longer. Having given permission to touch himself is too good of a deal to turn down and without thinking about it his shaky hands find a pillow, sinking his fingers into the plush surface above his head. Steve’s warm body is still weighing him down. 

“Alphaaa-” he starts to complain but Steve’s keyed in already. Moving to the foot of the bed with the grace of a predatory wild cat, slinking back and nodding at him as if saying ‘go on’. Bucky forgets to breathe. 

Choking on a purr or moan or whimper or whatever the fuck was going to come out of his mouth as he flips himself to be face down on the bed. Steve growls his appreciation into the air surrounding them that reeks of sex and sweat. Dragging the pillow that he’s locked his hand on down between his legs he whines to himself, this /is/ how he gets off nine times out of ten and usually he would never think twice about it but… with his alpha watching- with his alpha burning holes into his overheated skin his muscles fill with tension. 

Or at least they do until Steve practically howls, groaning out, “that’s how you do it ‘mega?” awe thick in his voice. Bucky nods, pushing his hips down and whimpering with the sweet friction it provides to his dick. His anxieties about embarrassing himself or the much fainter one’s about ruining Steve’s pillow with his… wetness all flying out the fucking window and shattering like dropped plates. 

“You get yourself off like a girl Bucky? Yeah? Dragging that little hole a’ yours over something soft?” 

Bucky blacks out for a moment, he swears.

Coming back into himself and whimpering, whining into the bed with his hair all around him falling in messy waves and curls. He’s repeating ‘please’ over and over like a prayer without realizing it. Out of his mind with desire. Hungry for Steve’s hands. His cock. His fingers. His knot. His smell. His anything- everything. 

“God, baby, lookit you. You’re gonna be drowning in slick soon. So wet I can see it from here.” 

Bucky humps down faster and harder, suddenly remembering that he might not have any of his toys here with him but he does have his own fingers. He whines, having to slow his hips to trace two of his fingertips over the sensitive skin of his rim. Practically sobbing as he brings his knee up and out, folding one of his legs and spreading it out to the side as far as he can. He kicks off his boxers and doesn’t have the brain power or time to consider that it might look a little silly- him in just his shirt and socks with his hair being everywhere. 

The new positioning wrecks his ability to thrust down, his legs no longer providing and leverage like this, but it opens his ability to tease his entrance so who the fuck cares. He certainly doesn’t. 

His cunt throbs hard with the clearer emotions coming from Steve since he’s not otherwise occupied currently and he involuntarily wails with the force of the arousal suddenly shrouding him. Unable to help himself, he pushes two fingers into his sopping entrance at once, on the first try. 

An animalistic, desperate, loud moan forces itself out of his body, Bucky barely recognizes it as coming from himself. He just simultaneously tries to hump back onto his fingers and down onto the pillow to stimulate his dick. He feels pinned. Stuck between the two sources of electricity making him shiver and curl his toes. Just kind of helplessly writhing between them with no real plan, just wildly needy. 

He shoves another finger into himself, whining and drooling. 

“Need- need, ahh! Ah! Ple-please, neeeed-” his hungry ramblings all falling together and not making any sense, just amounting to begging for something but not knowing what. He’s just senselessly, uselessly, pleading for what he needs. His alpha. 

His cunt full with his own fingers isn’t enough and neither is humping into the pillow, yes, he knows he certainly could cum like this but he doesn’t want to- not when his alpha is just behind him. Watching. Waiting. Bucky would look over his shoulder to see him, to chase the low growls and grunts and deep moans that surely mean he’s enjoying the show but he doesn’t have it in him. So he just keeps twisting his wrist and stretching his fingers apart. Swearing, sweating, begging, and whimpering for more. 

The omega doesn’t feel the bed dip, nor does he hear the alpha move not until his voice is right there, calming his desperation just a touch while somehow also heating the fire over taking his body, “so messy baby. This cunt-” Bucky might scream. He definitely wails, but it’s entirely possible that he screams, because Steve’s thick fingers are working their way through the rivers of slick on his skin and coming torturously close to his hole before just barely coming in contact with it. 

Steve doesn’t comment on his outburst just continues as if Bucky’s not falling apart under him, “this cunt’s hungry ain’t it, ‘mega?” His teeth scrape the back of his omega’s neck while he talks making him drool more. 

But as quick as his fingers come to his entrance they’re gone, instead more interested in finding Bucky’s wrist and pulling it back and out of him while he coaxes him to turn over. Bucky starts crying without meaning. Hysterical. He fucking aches! He needs something- anything! 

However his cries don’t fall on deaf ears. 

Steve’s there immediately, bodily pressing Bucky down to the sheets and curling one of his legs around his slim waist and soothing the other out to the side. Spreading his boy wide. While the blonde still has one hand encasing his wrist the other dives between his fanned out legs, quickly finding Bucky's soaked entrance once more. He sobs in relief and desire, his insides turning to mush against the blaze Steve’s set inside him. Two of his thicker and longer (fucking bless his fucking hands) fingers slide easily into Bucky. 

Faintly he registers Steve’s awe and own arousal but with his own body taking in so much he can’t take note of anything else. 

Or he can’t until Steve takes his wrist and brings it higher while Bucky trashes his head from side to side and clenches down /hard/ on the fingers stretching him open wider, whining and looking crazed. Then Steve puts Bucky’s slick coated fingers in his mouth. 

Bucky starts sobbing all over again, feeling Steve’s hum that sounds more like a growl around his hand. His tears are flowing so fast that they drip into his lax mouth at the same time Steve finally, finally puts another finger inside him. Sparing one hand to keep Bucky’s arm captured while the other works him over. Pulsing three of his fingers in and out of the omega’s cunt, searching for that spot that’ll make him see stars- or more stars than he’s already seeing. 

Bucky hears his own wail before realizing he’s going to make any noise, a desperate, wrecked sound that rivals the filthiness of the squelching wet sounds made by Steve’s fingers in his cunt. His eyes roll back with it, his body becoming consumed by static with the tsunami of sparks and flames that follow his well aimed thrust. Steve continues on casually, pulling his fingers back so just the tips rest in Bucky and plunging them back in while licking down his omega’s wrist from his palm, chasing the left over streams of wetness with a guttural sound. 

He can’t stop himself from crying. Can’t stop his internal muscles from clenching and pulling and milking Steve’s fingers. Can’t stop the constant flow of slick. Can’t keep his toes from curling, his teeth from aching. 

He can’t stop himself from cresting over. 

He hadn’t registered that he was there until he was, plunging over the cliff edge into the rough breaks of waves until he was half way to hitting the water. 

Now he wails, whimpers, and moan, becoming his own cacophony of pleasure and noise and blurred lines of what’s what. What’s his own pleasure and what’s his alpha’s. His back arches as if trying to get away from the flames consuming his spine and groin, popping with the intensity of the move. He can’t get enough air, panting and gasping as Steve keeps doing, doing- something. Whatever the fuck it is it feels good. 

Stretching his orgasm out until he feels like he’s levitating above the bed, only snapping back down into his own body for a second before his alpha cums. His spare hand, not the one with his fingers stretching as wide as they can so he’s got something to clench down on and tugging softly at his rim in a way that makes him accept that no one will ever make him feel so exquisite, has dropped Bucky’s limp arm in favor of collecting enough of his slick to jerk himself off. His shirt still in place and his shorts and underwear just barely pulled down and tucked under his balls. The wet sounds call out like a siren to Bucky’s orgasm battered body. 

The hot splash of copious amounts of cum landing on Bucky’s spent dick and stomach and hips and chest and everywhere. Dripping off of his sides and making the bed even messier. 

Bucky moans softly with his alpha, getting his own overwhelming shocks of electric pleasure through their bond, enough to make his spent dick twitch in interest and too hot, too much, too soon body tensing pleasure-pain. Steve’s own sounds will be jerking off material for the rest of Bucky’s life. Low growls and breathless, punched out grunts, deep moans that echo in his own massive chest before hitting the air. All of them make Bucky a little more stupid. 

Making him want to roll over and show his alpha his stomach despite being there already. Making him want to bare his throat even more. Making him want to beg, right here and now, for him to bond him. To breed him. To fuck his cunt full until he’s heavy with it- and oh, fuck, isn’t that a thought - that he’d probably be full and weepy and overwhelmed with it after just one load judging by the amount currently painting the front of his body. 

Which Steve doesn’t care about one bit if the way he flops down atop him is any indicator. Literally sticking them together. 

Bucky giggles at that idea, softly from gentle amusement and being satiated. Then loud, stomach cramp inducing giggles take him because he’s been fucked-out and is cock-drunk and stupid with both of those in addition to his orgasm. Steve’s side of the bond, the constant hum between them, lighting up with adoration as he merely places a slow kiss to the side of Bucky’s face where he can reach. 

“You ‘kay there, Buck?” He asks when Bucky doesn’t quit laughing. 

He can’t answer him for like three more minutes, just jostling the blonde with the force of his laughter before calming enough to speak, his voice trapped somewhere between a chuckle and groan, “you jus’ fucked me stupid ‘s all.” 

Steve kisses him again and goes to find something to clean them off with once he strips them both of their remaining clothes.


	11. XI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The returning of work brings many things to Steve and Bucky- like having to get creative with the way meet up for dates and spend time together but what it doesn't seem to bring is Bucky's heat (which is overdue) or Steve's rut... or they don't think it does.

Bucky goes back to work the next morning, on Wednesday, as does Steve. Well, Steve returns that afternoon because that’s when there’s a fire to fight but the point still remains.

Bucky returns to caring for people of all ages, the pups that come accompanied by worried parents in being his favorite in the regard that they’re at least fun to chat with and easy to cheer up, that wander into the emergency room with injuries fairing all the way from a mild cough (seriously, the amount of people who come into the ER with colds he swears…) to life threatening wounds that take up entire portions of limbs. The kind that he tends to see for a while behind his eyelids if he doesn’t have a decent distraction, something Steve’s very good at providing.

Steve going back to charging into places most people (re: anyone who’s not a firefighter and even some of the firefighters) shouldn’t be and definitely don’t belong. Coming back home to Bucky with his clothes plastered to him with sweat and depending on the severity of the fire, which means more time spent at the sight, ash or streaks of charcoal. Though it seems after every fire he has at least one anecdote that’s positive or funny. Those stories make Bucky realize why he likes it so much. 

And it goes on like that for about three months. Working and dating. Exploring how to balance them both while not becoming the same person. 

Any time not consumed by work or relaxing with friends (Steve has many more than Bucky because Bucky doesn’t talk to any of his coworkers outside work so he just has Nat) is spent with one another, doing the same things they were doing when their relationship started, well, just not going to workout classes /together/ because no matter how many times they try that it ends up coming dangerously close to violating public decency laws (they did it a total of four times before deciding to not). 

But Steve does keep up with yoga along with his regular regimen both because of Bucky and one of his coworkers who claims it’s the only reason she gets up in the morning after they have a full day of work. He does hot yoga exclusively once they stop trying to go together. It’s more intense and… and Steve likes intense, clearly, he charges into fires for a living. 

They do more dates that aren’t the same but a good portion of them are, including getting this mysterious Tony to sneak them clearance into too fancy of places whenever possible. However, most of them end up being stay-at-home because it’s what they prefer but branch out to the diner and a bar not far from home a good amount. ‘Home’ becomes Steve’s apartment because it’s bigger than Bucky’s and closer to the hospital as well as the fire station- it makes sense for them. 

They’re just waiting to officially move in together after Bucky’s yearly lease expires in another two months, though for now the only things still in his apartment are furniture, appliances, some clothes, and odds and ends of things that he doesn’t need day to day.

The almost three months they spend that way are the easiest months of their lives, both in the parts that don’t intersect and those that do- collectively it’s fantastic. Beyond words even. 

Sure, they have more dumb fights but that’s just it. They’re dumb. Never serious and never spanning more than a few hours at the longest- the shortest being like five minutes. Usually the root of the issue is a result of their jobs, high stress and high time commitment, although ultimately neither of them could give up their work so they just become better communicators. Much better. Bucky learns how to tell Steve when he feels an anxiety attack coming on (despite beforehand never being sure himself) and in turn his alpha quickly learns, like it’s impressive how fast he adjusts, how to read him and provide comfort depending on what he sees in him. Steve learns how to better deal with not always winning because somehow it’s not common practise to teach firefighters how to process not being able to always save everyone all the time the way nurses are. Steve slowly accepts that sometimes you do just need to cry and accept that you did your best, that he’s not held inhuman expectations above others because he’s labeled as a “first responder”. 

Everything is good, they’ve even started using the word “mate(s)” to describe the other rather than “boyfriend(s)” because the second option doesn’t feel weighty enough. It’s… it’s too casual to explain what they’ve dove head first into. And, yes, they’ve definitely strained necks and hit foreheads together along the way but it doesn’t matter. Not when all is great regardless. They’re learning and growing and still fit together anyway. 

Which is why Bucky’s confused when they officially celebrate three months together (by sleeping past one pm) without either of them triggering the other’s cycle yet. And it continues that way for the next two and a half weeks, no heats for him, no ruts for Steve.

It’s strange.

Especially considering Bucky had his last heat a week prior to meeting Steve and he routinely cycles five times a year (the average omega having anywhere from four to six heats within the span of twelve months) meaning he should’ve already gone into heat again. Especially with having an alpha present, an alpha who’s a biological perfect match. 

His cycle has been like clockwork since he first presented when he was fourteen. So why would it change so drastically now? On average there’s a gap of seventy three days between his cycles, it’s been one hundred and nine now (Bucky counted whilst on a suspiciously slow shift in the ER). 

Steve’s cycle makes more sense, he seems to still be on track despite Bucky’s being so far off the rails it’s not even funny. Seeing as alpha’s rut two to four times a year on their own- but some, not all, will adapt if they take an omega as a mate to cycle with them after a while. His alpha in particular ruts twice a year. Leaving a one hundred and eighty three (rounding up) day gaps between cycles. Steve ruts in July and December- the exact days falling somewhere in the middle of both months -for four days in total with the average alpha’s rut lasting two to four days. And compared to Bucky’s own five to six days of heat, that usually are much closer to six, that’s fantastic that they’ll be that evenly matched. Bucky’s heard that heats much easier and better with an alpha and exponentially better if said alpha is in rut, which is relieving because his heats are always /intense/. 

July is half a week away, meaning roughly three-ish weeks until he ruts and hopefully triggers Bucky’s heat, because if not he needs to get his hormone levels checked and possibly some blood work too. But there’s no use in panicking until then. 

Though surely, assuming Bucky will fall into heat when Steve ruts, if Bucky’s cycle was pulled so far back Steve’s would’ve been pulled forward? It doesn’t really matter all that much but it occupies a good chunk of the omega’s mind during boring moments. They’re still planning to spend their cycles together so thinking of it also leads to many poorly timed swells of arousal for the poor omega. 

Most of the time he just tries to pace out how he thinks the experience for himself will go, assuming he goes into season first (it’s typically happens that way because omega’s heats last longer and get worse over time along with fertility spiking, so biologically it makes sense to have the alpha rut at the middle or end of an omega’s heat). Wondering how it will differ, being in heat with a rutting alpha versus just a very compatible, eager alpha. And other… things about how it’ll go that never fail to make his face heat up. 

One of the things that heats his blood, but for different reasons than one may assume, is thinking about bonding with Steve. Well, bonding in the regard that Steve actually bites him rather than their unconscious immediate bond that doesn’t require physicality in that way. It’s such an intimate craving that Bucky often feels embarrassed for at least fifteen minutes post-bonding thoughts. 

They’ve spoken about it three times, well, they’ve had serious conversations about it three times. Sometimes it comes up when they’re making out or getting each other off- which Steve has yet to stick his cock inside Bucky because they agreed to wait until someone’s cycle starts purely logistically, one look at his cock and, yeah, you’d understand. Yet when it comes up then it’s more of just a piece of dirty talk in the same way breeding comes up. It’s instinctual. 

The serious conversations have established that bonding will come after their first shared cycles just so they know they fit and work together in that way. Plus, it’s safer to wait longer. Bonding can’t be taken back easily. In fact it’s hard enough to reverse without life-threatening danger that typically, even in medical journals, it’s referred to as “highly improbable” or just straight up “impossible”. 

It can be done but the documented cases of it being done safely was when the bond was born from malicious intent (meaning one or both of the parties didn’t consent) or when the pair had skin to skin contact routinely through the process which would be difficult considering usually when bonds don’t work out the two parties aren’t very, uhm, friendly. 

So they’ll wait. The earliest they’d do it would be the next heat Bucky has after their first shared one. 

Technically and literally bonding between alphas and omegas doesn’t have to be done during the omegas heat, it’s just an old wives tale that that’s the only way the bond will “stick”. It’s simply traditional and normal enough to do it’s expected. Plus apparently bonding an omega in heat is one of the most pleasurable experiences for both parties so… why not at least try, they figure

As it turns out Steve’s not going to be in season in the searing heat of mid-July but rather the second day of July, which shocks them both- more than a little. They were operating on the assumption that Steve’s cycle would remain normal while Bucky’s adjusted so when the omega returns from a twenty hour shift at way-too-fucking-early-o’clock to find Steve smelling of pre-rut he’s not prepared. 

Not prepared for how good he smells. Not prepared for how much hotter his body temperature is than normal, which realistically, he knows in pre-rut it’s only like a two or three degree difference but normally he runs hot so it’s still jarring. Not prepared for the handsome flush over his bare skin and his sleep rumpled hair (that’s very close to sex rumpled). Not prepared for Steve to wake up upon just smelling Bucky as he entered their bedroom and pulling him straight into bed with a happy growl and a sleepy, “ ‘mega” before he passed out again. 

Not that Bucky’s complaining because he really does smell /that good/ and he was dead on his feet anyway, that and he’s warm enough it’s like having a hot water bottle or electric blanket that can hold him. He ends up falling asleep quickly after some squirming to get out of his pants and attempting to remove his shirt but it seems Steve isn’t having that if the tightening of his arms is anything to go by- so he just accepts sleeping in his shirt and boxers. 

Steve keeps making low, humming possessive noises in the back of his throat and tugging Bucky closer to him like a child would with a teddy bear. It’s cute. 

Especially considering that Bucky knows he’s only going to get this twice a year (possibly more if Steve’s body adapts to his number of annual heats), so he savors it. Burying his head into the heat of Steve’s chest like he’s searching for his heartbeat and breathing in a lungful of the extra spicy and warm scent clinging to him. 

While his eyelids fill with sand and weigh heavy over his field of vision, Bucky hears himself purr softly, unintentionally responding to Steve’s sounds with his own. His hindbrain’s way of ensuring that Bucky’s alpha won’t be alone in this next adventure. 

He falls asleep boneless and smiling that night, resting on an untouchable cloud. 

“Hi- uhm, yes! James Barnes.” Bucky inwardly sighs, as much as he loves his job he’s never been the biggest fan of how the hospital is constantly busy and how many people work there. It’s too fucking early in the morning for him to be having so much hassle with trying to call in for partner support. He just wants his next seven days of work to be cleared so he can help St- 

“Yes! I work in the ER, er, yeah. B-A-R-N-E-S.” He spells his last name aloud to the secretary he’s speaking to, simultaneously just feeling like telling her where he works in the hospital and when his next shift is so he can hang up and go back to their bed that is /soaked/ in alpha pre-rut pheromones. Where his alpha is- by himself. But also sympathizing, he’s never talked to this person before in his life and neither have they to him, so it’s fair if they have no clue who he is. 

“Yeah, yeah- partner support.” 

The person on the other end of line asks if he’ll be needing to have to be put down for ‘in season leave’ as well if his partner is needing support for their own season. He nods tiredly, then he overcorrects himself too eagerly because a pair of arms wrap around him, “yES!” 

Bucky feels kind of dumb in his own surprise, he has an extra senstive sense of smell and he wasn’t able to register his alpha in pre… no. He decides, Steve doesn’t smell of pre-rut anymore. Just pure rut. He fights the urge to whine aloud and embarrass himself further, settling on leaning his weight back into Steve’s possessive hold. Arching his neck enough for the alpha to have his way with his scent glands but not enough to affect his voice. 

He is attempting to talk on the phone here. 

He winces at the small noise that comes out of him when Steve’s lips brush a particularly sensitive area but also suddenly deeply appreciates what the hospital secretaries and desk workers in general have to deal with, hell, he thinks dealing with patients in person is bad sometimes so he can’t imagine what they must go through on the daily. He hums in agreement when the person's voice returns after more typing, telling him he’s “all set” and that the next eight days of work days have been moved from under his name to other nurses and wishes him well. 

Steve shoves a warm, huge hand down his pants at that same moment. 

Bucky chokes on his tongue. Shock radiating through him at the touch. He manages to not make any sounds, waiting until the now amused secretary, as if they knew what was going on, signs off with the usual, “we’ll be happy to see you when you get back.” 

He hears the click, signaling they’ve hung up and lets his arm drop like a dead weight as Steve takes his phone from his hand and sets it on the counter before returning all his attention to Bucky. 

The hand in his pants comes to life, going from just resting on his dick blatantly like he owns it to squeezing it lightly, rubbing his fingers up and down the shaft. Petting him almost. Bucky mewls like a kitten at the sparks appearing behind his apparently closed eyes and he hasn’t got any time to investigate that because Steve is dragging his teeth down the side of his neck and over his scent gland- making Bucky’s eyes roll back in his skull -and down to the corner of his shoulder. 

Then his mouth goes the opposite way, rumbling, “ ‘mega, come back to bed. I wanna knot you.”


	12. XII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know what's going down... Steve and Bucky greet Steve's rut together.

Bucky’s own mouth dries immediately, turning his quick exhale into a whine, his entrance and folds between his legs going from just heated to sticky and on fucking fire. He wants Steve to knot him. He’s been aching for Steve’s not since the first time he got off with Steve, having his alpha’s handsome face stuck between his legs as he instinctively chased the smell of him. 

He whines again, trying to find his words and failing, his regular mind being overpowered by the smell coming off of his mate in fucking waves. He’s ready to be pulled under the tide. Hell, he’s making a tide of his own in his boxers. 

Then, like it’s a normal thing, Steve growls into his neck one last time before making a dizzying set of motions that Bucky’s zero to sixty brain can’t follow. One second he’s looking out into Steve’s living room with the alpha in question pressed to his back with a more, uhm, prominent part of him pressing even more into him, well, into his ass to be specific. Then in the next second he’s chest to chest with the alpha. 

Who he’s only now realizing is completely stripped bare and hard- his cock standing up against his abs literally dripping with the need to be touched, red and nearly purple with engorged veins and the skin near the base of his cock already beginning to pull taunt. 

Bucky falls into his arms then, whining shy and soft, “yes, ple-please, alpha.” 

Then the world’s moving around him, out of focus and hazy, and his legs are around Steve’s waist. Ankles hooked over the small of his back and head tucked into the heady air just off the top of his skin. Bucky curls closer, licking at the scent gland that right there for the taking because of Steve’s graceful positioning of their two bodies. Steve stiffens, a deep moaning rumbling from low in his chest, no doubt enjoying the feeling of his omega marking him up. 

Bucky lets his lips brush his overheated, sensitive skin the same way the blonde often does, “you wake up in rut alp-Steve? This morning or…” 

He doesn’t finish his sentence because before he can his back is slammed up against a wall. His hindbrain squeals, chanting /strong, good provider, good mate, good, strong, mate alpha, alpha, alphaalphaalpha, alph-/. 

Steve doesn’t answer. 

He just makes a yummy noise that Bucky’s forced to swallow because their lips are suddenly locked together. Steve’s slick and hot and commanding against his own. When he does that thing with his bottom lip to make it catch on Bucky’s top lip he can’t help but gasp, parting his lips and relaxing his jaw. Steve’s tongue, hot and messy, snakes its way into his mouth. He makes another debatched noise at the feeling. 

It takes him probably too long to realize what his alpha is doing but when he does he moans hotly into his mouth. His hands that were clutching at the miles and miles of open skin falling limp with his enjoyment. 

Steve’s fucking his tongue in and out of Bucky at the same time as he pumps his hips into him. 

And there just barely getting started, hell, they’re not even in the bedroom yet. Steve’s humping against him like he can’t control himself and is intent on fucking Bucky’s mouth like it’s the only thing he knows how to do. Bucky whines into his mouth, his jaw hitting the fucking floor when one of Steve’s fingers circles his hole. Panting helplessly when he shoves it in just on the side of too rough- the way his alpha, when not in rut and in full control of himself, would normally never do. He’s too scared to hurt Bucky. 

But now- now he’s too impatient it seems. Pressing it into Bucky and finding the spot that always makes him scream on the first try. The rough treatment has Bucky’s eyes rolling back into his head and his toes curling sharply into the matching set of dimples just above the perfect shape of Steve’s ass. Bucky feels like he’s been set on fire. 

Especially when Steve repeats the mouth watering, perfectly stinging, rough motion with a second finger. Bucky keens into his mouth, fuck, fuck, fu-

They’re in the hallway. 

It hits Bucky just then and then he can’t help but laugh between moans into his alpha’s mouth, tugging and the sleep roughened strands to get his attention, using his core strength to pull himself a little ways off of the two fingers thrusting in and out of him. 

Steve moves his head, his eyes still shut and bites his jaw in retaliation, a displeased, low growl making its way out of him. Bucky’s eyes widen at the tainting of his smell- taking on an almost acidic note. Steve thinks he doesn’t want it. This. Them. 

Nononono. 

“Steve,” he breathes out, trying to hold himself together against the onslaught of pleasure that is his alpha currently. Holding his head above water figuratively and literally tilting it back so Steve can’t reach him and has to listen. “Steve- c’mon. You can’t knot me in the hallway.” He tugs, softer this time, at the shorter but still grabbable hair messily sitting at the back of the crown of his head. He smiles when Steve just digs his heels in. 

Biting at the hollow of his throat and his collarbones- the skin he can reach on Bucky -while stretching apart the two fingers he still has inside Bucky. Using his thumb to trace his folds that are dripping with his wetness, all of his movements screaming ‘no, let me have you. Let me.’

Bucky tries for a different tactic, “alpha!” He pitches his voice intentionally higher, more feminine, leaning into an omega’s equivalent of what alphas have and is referred to as “the voice”. /The voice/ being used to get omegas to submit or to do things for the alpha, his version makes Steve’s eyes shoot up to his face. Instinctively drawn to the sound of his desperation like a mother bear to an injured cub. 

Bucky’s never seen his eyes so /black/. His pupils swallow the blue completely.

The omega squirms, biting his lip when he hears the wet sounds of his internal muscles clenching and releasing their grip on Steve’s fingers. He takes in a trembling breath and goes for it, truthfully he would let Steve knot him here and then haul him around on his knot but he knows how his alpha is outside of rut. He’s a romantic. 

So he whines, leaning into the helpless, high voice, “alpha, alpha you gotta take me to bed so I can take your knot. Want your knot. Want it in me- in me filling me up and- and, annn-”

Steve ruts him off, a feral sound bubbling out of his lips, he stares Bucky down. Nodding sharply and removing his fingers. Bucky clenches around nothing and swallows the hungry, needy sound he wants to make with the lack of penetration. But before unsticking them from the wall Steve brings his hand, the one that was just inside of Bucky, to his omega’s lips, a disheveled look painting his face. 

Bucky opens his mouth. Closes it. 

Steve throws them down the hallway and into the bedroom, navigating it blindly while he watches his omega suck his own slick off of his fingers. Bucky squirms, hearing and feeling his legs and swollen entrance slide together through the mess he’s making. The mess that’s also in his own mouth because- because Steve decided he needed to watch Bucky lick his own taste off of him. 

He thought he was humoring his alpha- but as he lands on the bed and Steve’s long fingers are pulled from between his lips he misses them, although he certainly doesn’t miss the way his entrance and dick throb. They feel swollen and achy, sensitive and he knows if Steve isn’t just going to prep him purely to fuck him he is going to cum before he can get his cock in him. 

He whines then wails when Steve doesn’t even stop kissing him to pull in boxers down his legs, he just rips them off of his lithe frame. 

Bucky chokes on another call out of ‘alpha’, this time not even remotely trying to put on his /omega voice/ to get what he wants. It just spills out of him like even /more/ slick. He pants into Steve’s mouth, hopeless at reciprocating any kind of kissing in favor of simply continuing to breath. 

Steve then, finally, opens his mouth to talk. His familiar tamber hitting Bucky’s ears for the first time that morning like a personalized attack, a killshot. 

Bucky’s brain short circuits, maybe even blacks out completely, or maybe it’s shaking just like the rest of him- trembling in his skull. His voice is feral, hoarse, and practically just a prolonged growl. Bucky has never, never ever, heard anything- anyone -sound so hot. He’s got to be drooling at this point. 

Zero of his thoughts focused around the idea that he’s grown up with, being told that alpha’s in rut simply can’t control themselves and won’t even if they could. Becoming aggressive and dangerous to any potential mate within their vicinity. Steve isn’t that. None of it. 

“Bucky, baby- ‘mega can’t wait to knot you. M’ gonna breed you up right, stuff this-” he shoves two of his fingers back inside of him. Bucky wails, his head hitting the pillows with all the force that he was holding inside his body. His voice is rough and dominating and /right there/ next to his ear and just everything he could ever need. “Gonna stuff this cunt full. Gonna make it drip outta you just like your slick…” 

Their eye contact is beyond intense at that moment. 

“That alright with you, ‘mega?” Steve asks, lips curling into an almost amused, wolf-like grin, pinning Bucky to the bed without his touch assisting him at all. 

Bucky nods, barely getting out a little “please” before the alpha is putting another finger in him. Spreading him open for his cock. His knot. Making sure his smaller body is primed and ready for him, the blonde’s movements are impressively careful and dexterous for someone who’s cock and instincts are most definitely screaming at him to just get on with it. Once more proving Bucky wrong with where his patients and stubbornness ends, the younger had expected Steve to just be prefunctionary but, no, he’s continually hitting Bucky’s g-spot and petting at his inner thighs and the slick, thin skin around his entrance. Making sure he’s feeling good too. 

Bucky tries to tell him all that but then Steve’s fingers are leaving him and he’s crying out.

His thoughts flying away like startled birds and being replaced with Steve’s all-encompassing noises, his voice slurring and taking on a sort of snarling sound, “lookit that ‘mega, lookit you. So fuckin’ wet, you’re gonna stain the bed,” he pauses to just stare worshipfully for a moment. Frozen in admiration. Staring at his own fingers, still curled together like they’re inside Bucky while really just being connected to him by a thin string of slick. 

Bucky cants his hips up, whimpering involuntarily. 

Steve reanimates then, swiftly placing Bucky’s fingers up at his mouth but instead of just sticking them right between his lips he sticks his tongue out. Dragging it up his fingers obscenely. Staring his omega down all the while. 

His brain must revert entirely back to his baser instincts for a good ten seconds because when he comes to- he’s face first into the bed, unsure if Steve asked him to present for him or if he just got tired of Steve’s rut muddled brain going so slow while being so fucking chaotic and frantic too. Either way he really doesn’t give any shits. All he cares to know is that he’s face down ass up for Steve and he can /feel/ the alpha kneeling behind him and /staring/. 

Bucky spreads his legs more. Giving Steve an eyeful of the dretched valley that is between his legs and ass, he rocks his hips back, ready and willing to pull out a few weak ‘alpha’s but not needing to. 

Steve’s there with record breaking speed, his hands grabbing at his sweat and slick sheened skin with possessiveness lacing his every movement. He unabashedly hooks his index finger at the rim of his hole and pulls Bucky open- he whines loud enough he’s sure people down the fucking block heard it. Nearly screaming as he feels the blunt head of his cock next. 

He tries to move back onto his cock- already craving the pressure of his knot stretching him out, slitting him at the seams from being so full of cock, wanting to hear the noises Steve’s gonna make, needing to feel what it’s like to finally get Steve inside him. He wants it all. 

But Steve tightens his dominating grip, grumbling and pressing his chest to his omega’s back, forcing him to take their weight while he speaks into the nape of his neck. “You’re gonna take what I’m gonna give you Buck. You’re not gonna lift a finger. Gonna make you- you cum so hard. Gonna get us there ‘mega don’t worry- m’ gonna… unngh!” 

He cuts himself off, apparently having found the allusive end to his own patience and plowing forward into Bucky more than just resting on the thick tip of his cock in him. 

Bucky’s eyes widen so fast tears build up in them, threatening to fall just as his jaw goes slack, a tiny, barely audible sound coming out of him. He’s gonna choke on Steve’s cock like he did in the shower and an embarrassing amount of times after when he got too hyped to blow his alpha but… but, while said perfect cock is in his ass. Not bulging in his throat and testing the limits of his jaw. 

His lip trembles, making soft sounds of friction against the sheets he’s pressed into while a pitiful whine comes out of him. Something Steve can hear rather than feel. 

He keeps pressing into him. 

Steve’s hitching breath puffing against the sweaty skin that barely separates them, Bucky can feel him itching to plunge right into his heat. He can feel and faintly hear the demanding instincts coming from Steve’s need to rut, to hump, to /fuck/ him. 

He breathes in. Out. 

Relaxing every muscle he can think of and letting Steve take everything he has to offer. Not even sparing to think about how Steve’s never been inside him like this before. Not about how thick he is. Not about how long he is. 

No, he doesn’t think about anything except Steve’s, his alpha’s, last words. Trusting him completely to do as he says, to give Bucky his pleasure from a silver spoon. Giving him the reins completely, melting into utter submission that’s been calling to him all the while. 

His alpha’s cock sinks in deeper while he subconsciously makes deep cooing sounds, hard wired to ensure his, very wanting, omega is also having a good time. Steve kisses his shoulder softly when he realizes why his cock has found more room inside Bucky’s impossibly hot, impossibly tight internal muscles. 

Bucky’s eyes well up again. He loves his alpha. 

He hears a wailing sob eventually, realizing only when the noise is half-way over that it’s coming from him. The cause being the already swollen skin at the base of his cock entering his body. It’s hotter than the rest of his cock. Branding Bucky’s insides like his bite on his neck will eventually. 

He whimpers a thin, breathy “yours” out to Steve. 

Who bites at his shoulder once, sharply, before unfolding himself, sitting up so the fronts of his thighs fully stick to the wet surface of the backs of Bucky’s and thrusting forward. The air is instantly knocked out of his lungs even as his chest fights to expand, his muscles trembling, his blood singing with rightness as his alpha’s cock is fully pushed into him. 

“Mine.” Steve punctuates his thrust, sealing the deal. 

Bucky lifts his head weakly, looking back at him and nodding and intending to do something but then Steve’s pulling back and thrusting back in, their flesh colliding and hotly. Drool leaks from the omega’s parted lips like it’s being fucked out of him as well. He cries out into the air that’s thick with the smell of them, his head dropping like a stone. 

Steve keeps fucking him, his hand braced on both sides of Bucky’s neck, pressing his shoulders slightly so that the force of his hips doesn’t drive Bucky too far up the bed. Bucky’s a mess. Panting and choking, noises of desperation and need spilling out of him. Fire shooting up his spine while fireworks hit him right between the legs. 

Every sharp forward thrust of his alpha’s hips force his cock to sway and slap against his stomach, forcing little “ah! Ah! Ah!”s out of him with every powerful movement. 

The pleasure for just Bucky is immense, he feels like he’s going to fly apart at the seams and shoot off into space while also feeling as if he’s going to pass out right away but with their bond their pleasure becomes each others’. The pressure of Bucky’s own muscles squeezing Steve’s cock can be felt by him making his head spin even more. The pressure of Steve inside of Bucky, pressing and rubbing against his most sensitive areas has Steve’s brain dripping out of his ears.

Every twitch of muscle, every pulse of hips, every smack of flesh on flesh becomes a feedback loop. 

Forget being in their own world. Bucky’s certain they’re in their own fucking universe. 

Steve’s hips start to stutter, his smooth rhythm getting lost in favor of choppy short thrusts that hit everywhere good inside of Bucky and resemble something more along the lines of humping than thrusting. It pushes his seemingly ever expanding knot right against his rim and g-spot. 

He keeps gasping. Unable to keep his breathing together with the feeling, wanting to spread himself wider to get more of that delicious stretch and pull but also wanting to shut his legs in fear of feeling /too much/. The barrage of pleasure making his entire body feel red-hot and malleable- it’s overwhelming. Dropping over him like the crest of the wave and that’s before Steve decides to shove his nearly blown knot into him and just circle his hips in miniature figure eights. 

Breathlessly demanding, “ ‘mega you gotta cum. Wanna feel you cum on my knot, wanna feel your body beg for me to breed you up. Wanna-”

Bucky wails at his words, clenching down on Steve like if he doesn’t he’s gonna pull out. Steve doesn’t. Instead he tips his hips forward- or does something but the point is it has his eyes rolling back so hard it hurts a little. Makes him whimper and then scream when one of his hands fists his cock. Barely getting through one full stroke before he’s catapulting over the edge like a roller coaster car off of broken tracks. 

His dick twitches in Steve’s fist, his fingers getting painted with his thin, sweet smelling release. More watery than thick alpha cum- resembling constrained slick more than seamen. He isn’t sure if he’s making any noise or not because his entire being, his fucking soul, is contensentrated on feeling his alpha’s cock pulse and throb inside him. 

Feeling the exact moment when the last of his knot fills out, stretching Bucky full while he pushes his hips forward- as if he can get any deeper within his omega. 

Bucky then hears himself and Steve together, a perfect, dirty, utterly filthy cacophony of high and low sounds. He also registers Steve pulling his legs a bit wider, giving himself more room to work and- oh. Oh, fuck, holy shit. 

He feels Steve start to cum. 

Pumping him full, breeding him up- just like he promised. His knot ripples in a way that makes Bucky feel indescribable things throughout his entire body that’s turned from a localized fire between his legs to a full blown wildfire encompassing his entire form. In the tight channel of Bucky’s body locking around Steve’s the pressure increases exponentially. 

Bucky keens, nearly panicking with how fucking stuffed full he is. 

Steve leans forward to press them together again when he comes back down, panting into his back wetly, his hips still twitching and his balls still emptying into him but still trying to comfort Bucky. Make sure he’s taking his knot well. 

His alpha bending over forces his cock to hit that toe-curling spot within him and it’s the last string for Bucky. 

He cums again. 

Sobbing with how full he is. Spread /wide/ on his alpha’s cock and crying with it, well, that and the sheer amount of fucking cum that’s surely going to be spilling out of him for like an hour after his knot goes down and he pulls out. The pressure hitting buttons he didn’t know he had. 

“ ‘mega?” Steve rumbles, questioning before realizing with a gutted groan- feeling the contractions around his cock -that he’s just cum again. 

Once Bucky stops milking his knot for the second time he makes the alpha’s equivalent of a purr, hooking an arm over his stomach with the intent of pulling him up and then repositioning them so they can lay side by side. Then he feels it.

His stomach is hot under his huge palm, sticky with his release and sweat. Bucky whines thinly when he places just what Steve’s feeling, his normally flat stomach is pooched out, just enough to be noticeable by touch. It’s not even that much. It’s just. It’s got Bucky whimpering into the spit drenched sheets and squirming on Steve’s cock that’s still impaling him. 

Steve makes a guttural, pleased and awed noise. Rubbing his stomach appreciatively, “fucked you full didn’t I Buck.” 

Bucky’s legs literally collapse as he moans heartily, no longer able to hold his weight when they’re trembling so vigorously and spreading out to either side like the slow expansion of a puddle of melting butter. His dick makes contact with the sheets first, making his muscles twitch and ripple around Steve’s cock. He whimpers- fucked out.

His alpha pets his side with the hand that isn’t sandwiched between the bed and his well used body, he rumbles happily, angling his chest and torso so his weight doesn’t crush the smaller man whilst entangling their legs. 

“Better?” Bucky breathes out into the sheets, his voice muffled. 

“Much,” Steve kisses the sweet curve of his neck and continues, “and, uhm, sorry about jumping you in the kitchen. When you were- you were on the phone. I just-” Bucky flaps a hand at him, quieting him and smiling privately, trying to get his breathing back to a regular speed- the blonde takes his hand with a questioning noise. 

“You’re in rut. I, well,” he laughs airly, “I don’t fully get it- but still…” 

“Yeah.” His hips twitch inside him, reminding Bucky of the sheer size of his knot- which has yet to begin going down -and lighting up his insides more. Steve even seems surprised by it, his gasp shocked at hot, breath fanning Bucky’s bare shoulder. When was his shirt taken off, he remembers Steve ripping his underwear but- ? Did he wake up with it off? He went to bed wearing a shirt where’s-

Steve groans into his skin, sounding more like his normal self when they get together in this way- well, never… He flushes thinking about it. He sounds more like the usual Steve getting his rocks off than he did just a few minutes ago so, surely that’s a good sign. 

“Need mmm- ?” Bucky’s voice leaves him as does Steve’s heat, he’s sitting up, getting back into position to fuck into him he realizes with a little moan. 

“Gah- hnng. I- I usually don’t-” his voice dies and Bucky feels his gaze like a touch- like he’s dragging his fingertips down his skin rather than just his eyes looking him over. 

“It’s- ahH!” the omega gasps, primal instincts making him try to keep up with the tiny waves of Steve’s hips but his legs not cooperating, “it’s okay.” He finishes in a rush. 

Steve notices his predicament, that unless Steve holds up his hips as he currently is doing, his legs can’t hold him up. He ends up flat on his still bulged out stomach. The thought has Bucky’s toes curling with desire. 

“Here.” Steve says and Bucky’s too lost in the twitches of his alpha’s hips, in the tight pulls of his inflated knot tugging at the muscles of his rim. Breaths leaving him in pants or whines or whimpers. But the tugging at his rim isn’t what he’s showing Bucky, no, he’s locking his forearms under his shoulders and laying down over him. His cock going just deeper and Bucky’s squealing. 

Clawing at the sheets weakly, trying to understand why even with a popped knot Steve’s still feeling the effects of rut, “wha-” 

Steve’s biting at the shell of his ear, back to incoherent growling for a moment. Bucky can feel him through the bond, fighting with his instincts which are demanding he fuck Bucky, fill him up, breed him, bite him, against the logical parts of his brain that know he’s done that already. Steve makes a noise, one that is echoed through what Bucky can feel of his experience. 

This hurts him as much as it feels good. 

What the fuck is going on? Why is he still needing to rut? 

Usually ruts have much larger waves than heats, heats usually can be satiated by a knot then the person in heat needs one minutes to an hour after the release of the knot depending on how long the knot is locked in them, the only override to the heat climbing back up to the peak of the wave is when one is too exhausted. When sleep or food is needed. Ruts though- usually ruts have bigger waves with larger periods of time where the alpha is back to normal. Bucky had expected him to rut and knot him then be okay for a period of three to four hours not- not to need him again immediately? 

Steve answers him in short bursts, little noises punctuating the aborted moves of his hips, some more painful sounds than others, “Buck, ‘mega.” He nuzzles into his neck and shoulder, shivers wracking through him, “you still, guh, still feel so good. Your muscles keep pulling me in- like” he breaths out a muffled roar with a particularly sharp thrust. Pleasure sparks through Bucky so intensely he has to bite the bedding or risk screaming, “like you're still trying to get more a’ me. Jus’ filled your cunt full and- and, ah!” 

Bucky can’t help but clench once more, hearing the spewing of filthy words coming from Steve. Not having been prepared for how much more vocal he becomes when rutting. 

It just gets worse when he starts talking, more like growling really, about what he feels like inside. How hot he is, how tight, how his muscles feel, how wet and smooth he is. How just being “stuffed tight” into him is going to drive him insane, with a sort of short chuckle and breathless “holy fuck, ‘mega, gonna kill me with how good you take my knot. My cock.” 

All the while forcing Bucky’s eyes to roll back in his head, his hindered thrusts becoming less so seeing as his knot deflates slightly, giving him more room to work. Every hit, every thrust, every twitch, every tiny bit of friction making his nerves alight with what feels like just one prolonged dry orgasm. Scratching every itch that he didn’t know he had. And-

Oh. Oh, that might- that might work. 

“Scruff me,” Bucky pants into the bed, ignoring the grossness of the nearly literal puddle of drool below his face in favor of honing in on the thereness of Steve. Steve makes a noise, strained and gutted, shoving his hips forward. Feeling his confusion Bucky continues, “scruff me, alpha. Think- I think it’ll help. Give you more space to- uhng! Space to, to move in me.” 

Thankfully his alpha listens before he has an aneurysm from trying to speak and being so overloaded with cock at the same time. Curling a hand around the back of his neck at the same time as he pushes his cock in as deep as he can. 

Bucky melts. All of his muscles, including the ones that have a vice grip on his cock and subsequently his knot, relaxing. Tension leaving him almost like a mock-orgasm, his head lolls to the side and his breathing returns to a somewhat normal pattern. 

Steve nearly howls, his hips snapping against the tender skin of his ass that’s almost been fucked raw as he knot expands again. Bucky’s muscles doing their job, not squeezing like life out of his knot this time like a constrictor snake but rather allowing him room to grow before clamping down. His alpha collapses, truly collapses, onto his back. 

Actually /whimpering/ as he pumps more cum into him. 

Bucky soars at the sound, knowing in his /soul/ that his alpha is okay, they’re okay. His head going from sorta hazy and foggy to blank, the grip of his hand on the back of his neck serving as a tether to earth that’s forgiving enough to also let him go to space. The difference between being in mist and wandering around, marveling at how different things look and then being lost in an all consuming fog storm, seeing just white and light grey, bewildered and amazed. 

A low hum rumbles from behind Bucky, as do soft undulations and for one utterly bizarre moment he thinks of earthquakes even though nothing about the sound or rocking movement feels like an actual quake. Just- it’s where he goes after waking. 

Only placing that the hum is from Steve and the rocking is his chest, in and out with the air dancing over the back of his neck. Playful and easy. His chest purrs with the blonde before his mind is fully caught up, the call of the wild beating in his heart waking him up before his head can extract itself from swimming in syrup. 

Rocking back feels like missing a step on the stairs, he whines, his eyes fluttering open with the bloom of confusion in him. 

Oh. He realizes, his lower half filling with static- kinda like how it feels to hold sparkling water in his mouth but… not in his mouth. Steve huffs at him then, perfect timing because Bucky knows he’s still asleep- not having felt the gentle getting out of a hot bath and floating in a steamy bathroom sensation yet. 

They’re not locked together anymore. Just laying together now, with Steve spooning him from behind, his bigger frame pulled up higher than it would be if they had just gone to bed like this. His hips instead positioned in a way that Bucky knows means they fell asleep while Steve’s knot was still blown. 

He flexes the muscles in his legs- checking to see if they work before he even attempts to move. 

They do but that doesn’t matter when his face explodes in flames because, holy fuck, there’s /so much/ cum between his legs. Without having tried to separate his legs yet it feels as if they’re glued together. Snaking a hand behind himself and in between them he discovers that the mess goes down to his knees, his slick having dried long ago because of the way his knot kept it inside of him but Steve's release is still tacky. Some of it is still dripping out of his puffy entrance, throbbing dimly from Steve’s size and their debackel with instincts. 

Stilling himself he breathes deeply. In. Then out. Repeating it until the thrumming of his heart is back to a somewhat relaxed rhythm rather than trying to beat its way out of his ribcage. He doesn’t feel the underlying itch of Steve’s rut that he’s been able to detect before, just a content undercurrent of satisfaction. 

So he gets up, intending on showering so Steve won’t be tricked to going back into the peak of his rut earlier than his biology demands by the sight of his omega so debatched, trying not to laugh at the impressive sound made when he stands, with more cum flowing out of him and unsticking his legs from one another at the same time. 

It should be gross but it’s not. It’s right, less right feeling than having Steve locked inside him but still right. Soothing an itch he didn’t know he had- who knew getting covered in cum would have such a good effect on the soul he giddily thinks. 

Bucky towels himself dry, humming to himself while Steve continues to sleep in their bed. Their bed that smells- no reeks (not in a bad way it’s just a little… intense) of them both. Steve’s campfire smoke, cinnamon, and ocean smell darker than typically mixing willingly with his own smell enhanced by arousal. Personally he still thinks he smells overly, like, chokingly sweet but Steve damn near growls when he says it out loud, especially if it’s one of the moments where he’s got his head between Bucky’s thighs, clearly showing him that he likes how he smells. So his own distaste never sticks around for long. 

Now though his thoughts disappear even quicker, preoccupied with hanging up his towel and deciding against any clothes that’s not just his boxer briefs and wondering about how Steve will feel when he wakes up. There’s still no underlying urge in him- from what Bucky can sense -but he did basically knot his omega twice. Which isn’t normal. 

At least Bucky doesn’t think it is? He does remember something being said about “double knotting” in school while he was studying to be a nurse but… they were constantly expected to learn so much. He doesn’t remember anything about it save for the name and, well, that what happened to his alpha is considered that. 

Running some other after shower rituals are sweetened by thoughts that revolve around how strange it is that he doesn’t feel all that different after having Steve inside him for the first time. 

In the moment it was his entire world, all he knew, but now… now its, its… 

Right. 

Again, a feeling of rightness is all that bubbles up in him, like he’s been doing this with Steve for centuries- like he should’ve been doing this with Steve for centuries. For longer than his natural life. He once read about a half baked theory on why some people tend to be drawn to one person more than others, a soulmate theory sort of, but scientific-ish. It offered that maybe the “right person” just had more of the original stardust or matter that had been formed next to each other before it expanded out from the big bang because tecniqually humans are made of the very same stuff that space is just… different construction. 

He likes that, he thinks maybe he understands the gravitational field that pulls him to Steve and that maybe it also explains the why of an unconscious immediate bond. Maybe their brains have more of the same stardust in them and therefore ‘light up’ their brains more than between the average mates. 

He doesn’t know. It’s possible he doesn’t want to know- Bucky’s always liked the intrigue of mystery. 

He untangles his hair quickly before finding and plugging in his laptop’s charger next to his side of the bed, beginning to lower the brightness of his computer but stopping himself with a laugh. It’s not even dark in the room anymore- it’s already after eight thirty, but normally he’d be at work now so his internal clock is off. 

He spares a look at Steve while his search results load. He doesn’t look upset or hurt when sleeping but he also isn’t, like, glowing or anything. A smile tugs at his lips, yeah, maybe nothing feels different because it’s supposed to be this way. They’re adjusting super fast because their matter has met before, eons ago but still the matter knew one another for much longer than they will ever be able to know each other. Millions of years of floating in space together than millions of years waiting to return and be together again. 

Bucky tears his sappy gaze away from Steve both because he really does want to know more about double knotting and (mostly) because he thinks he might start crying if he keeps traveling on that particular train of thought. 

The results for “what is double knotting” contain lots of interesting things, including LOTS of porn that Bucky is not going to be watching anytime soon, but it just gives him more questions than answers so he plows onward. Thumbing through a mass amount of tabs and gleaning out little bits of information that he believes will be helpful for either himself or the older man (who’s still passed out next to him). 

Barely stifling an enthused squeak when he finds a paper titled “Mating in UIB Couples: Different Occurrences Happening Often in The Rare Condition- A Rough Guide.” 

It takes him an hour to read, only forty five minutes or so being devoted to reading while during the other fifteen minutes he goes back to process and decode some of the medical jargon or generally big words he finds. The study is nine years old which in most cases would rule it out of the “recent” realm of science but it’s so fittingly specific he allows it through that filter gladly. The subjects of the study were all alpha omega pairs ranging in age from early thirties to late fifties and has actual quotes from the couples that make him feel a little perv-y but they did all consent so he powers through. 

Double knotting comes up with fourteen different couples (some of them only experiencing it once while others experience it nearly every time they have sex), there being thirty six in total, so it appears to be almost half of them have shared the experience of double knotting. It’s comforting to know and is called a “normal occurrence” several times- he breathes out plenty of relieved sighs. 

So double knotting, also knowns as “false knotting accompanied by true orgasm” or the shorter way of saying /hey, there’s this phenomenon where alpha’s can knot twice in a row even though usually it takes them hours to be able to knot again after its gone down and it’s caused by the brain tricking itself into thinking it hasn’t yet orgasmed./ Bucky plans to keep referring to it as double knotting.

The conclusion they come to is a widely accepted theory for its plausibility, the same way gravity is a theory, it’s simply that because of the shared bond that doesn’t need the assistance of a bite but that can be strengthened by one one’s instincts go into hyperdrive. Causing the internal muscles of the omega to prematurely tighten the way they would around a knot and in turn setting the alpha off before they can register in their rational, “modern”, brain that their knot has popped because of that too early release the alpha’s brain will trick itself into believing it hasn’t found release at all. Hence the second knotting. 

Huh, Bucky thinks, feeling vaguely smug that without knowing really anything about double knotting he was able to work himself and Steve through it whilst experiencing it first hand. He wonders- worries now soothed -if it will happen again or not. 

The majority couples that reported it only dealt with double knotting once but in the few that didn’t it happened basically every time, complicating their sex life. He looks over to Steve, indecently handsome even while he softly snores and is /out/, nothing with them has been normal so far so why would this be?


	13. XIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More rut adventures between Steve and Bucky but with some extras here and there... that of course make stuff much for interesting.

The alpha finally wakes up when Bucky’s making them breakfast, he can hear the shuffling sounds of him rolling out of bed and possibly making the bed too. The clock tells the brunette it’s nearly ten already meaning it’s been almost three hours since Steve’s rut hit its peak and that they have at the most another hour, at the least Steve’s going to come out here and drag him back into bed. He pauses his actions, feeling out for the bubbling itch on Steve’s side of the bond…

It’s there but, only barely simmering compared to the hefty boil it was when he woke up earlier this morning, so it’ll be Steve’s decision if they quell his need now or wait. Personally Bucky would rather wait on account of his growling stomach but he’s not going to turn down being pressed face first into the mattress anytime soon, not at all. 

“Breakfast?” Steve’s rumble sounds behind him, deep and rugged from sleep. 

“Mhm,” he agrees, leaning back to kiss the blonde in thanks for the lazy arm resting around his waist just above the band of his boxers. “Hungry?” Nuzzling into his hair Steve tugs at his earlobe with his teeth and even though there’s no intentional seducing being attempted Bucky can’t help but tease (maybe trying to get a rise out of his alpha in the back of his head), “not for me. For food, Steve.”

Steve growls playfully, nipping harder at his ear and talking into his neck, “not fair. ‘M in rut, baby… can’t help it.” Bucky knows by the way his voice sounds that he’s pouting, he smiles down at the pan of eggs in front of him but doesn’t let Steve see it, he just giggles a little. 

Turning off the stove with a click, a devious smirk curling its roots into the muscles of his cheeks as he turns in the strong arms that are swaddling him, “you can have me for dessert.” 

Steve’s hands land back on his ass rather than hovering in the air from loosening so his omega could move how he wanted, groping him with more of his strength than usual, driven a bit feral at all times from his rut it seems. He bites down on Bucky’s bottom lip, groaning from the obvious line that’s clearly working on him. Bucky sighs into his mouth, connecting their lips in a much softer fashion then. 

Between prepping food and eating it they speak about double knotting and what it means for them both. Bucky unloads all the newfound knowledge he has onto Steve, telling him that in couples similar to them (those that have UIBs) it's normal and may happen again. Explaining with stained cheeks what is happening when they experience that. 

Steve looks more and more intrigued the longer he speaks, his scent rising in potency faintly, but ultimately when Bucky wraps up his information dump the big blonde just blurts out, "damn, I love you." 

Bucky squeaks, the closest they've come to saying /those/ words was exchanged "love you"s after a few hours spent wrapped up in each other, half watching movies half lazily making out. Bucky had accidentally said it. 

He'd been admiring the handsome profile of Steve's face, studying the growing stubble that was darkening his face after not shaving for a day, cutting his cheekbones deeper. And Steve had said something, some joke that Bucky’s entirely sure would've been hilarious, had he not looked over at Bucky for his reaction. His ocean blue eyes shining with mischief. 

Catching Bucky’s eyes resulted in being tackled against the back of the couch with soft laughs on both of their sides and Bucky had just said it. 

"Love when you-" his voice broke and shifted to a whisper, "love, love you." 

Steve had been shocked into amazed silence, choking out, "who, me?" like the giant, dramatic dork he is. 

Bucky returned the favor, sighing dramatically, with put on annoyance that thickly layers over his voice, "no the TV." 

The older of the pair had just wrestled him to laying vertically on the couch, curling over him like an eager puppy, humming into his temple and grinning idiotically. Sighing out, "love everything you do. Every tiny thing, every… yeah. Love you too." 

Hearing the complete phrase is different though, somehow. It's more official he supposed and even though he can feel and he knows why Steve's had that reaction to his ramblings he asks, "that's all it takes? Just me rambling about sex in the most unscientific, unsexy way possible?" 

"Yep." He grins, cheesy, "I love that you care enough about me, about us, to do research. To wade through-" he waves his hand, cutting through the air, "through scientific studies to find us a reason. Wanting to know what it was like for me and wanting to comfort me if I had been upset or hurt. Which-" he clicks his tongue, "I'm neither of those. I'm nothing but pleased, it felt good. Really good. I wasn't expecting it to happen so I didn't have time to panic or worry, I just… overload." He shrugs. 

Making it through breakfast shouldn’t have been as much of a challenge as it was but it’s difficult to act normal and not jump your mate in the middle of your meal when said mate's cycle reaches the crest of another wave. It starts when Steve puts a hand on Bucky’s knee to praise him for the quickly whipped up meal of breakfast burritos that seriously could be sold at a restaurant but then over the course of their meal it creeps up his leg. Going from a warm, friendly hand on his knee to just resting above his knee to mid-way up his thigh to indecently close to Steve just casually laying a hand on his dick. 

His hand isn’t the only obstacle. 

The bond linking them also becomes one, when the underlying current turns to a livewire, burning through Steve’s brain to insensently nag at Bucky, allowing him to hear the thoughts that inspire his alpha’s hand to tighten on his thigh or to involuntarily trace patterns on the thin fabric of his boxers. 

Steve finishes his food first and Bucky can /hear/ him fighting to not just openly stare at Bucky while he eats. Bucky flexes the thigh under Steve’s broad palm in appreciation, giving him something to grab onto- possibly also being an open invitation. 

The instant Bucky finishes his food Steve is slinking off of the couch and slithering to kneel between his spread legs, nosing up his thigh like he can still smell the traces of slick on his skin from earlier and groaning heartily. Looking much more relaxed at just being able to touch his omega. 

Bucky sets his plate on the coffee table, forgetting it the second it leaves his hand. 

The omega speaks up, his dick chubbing up at the sight of his alpha between his legs in such a typically submissive position, making his head spin a bit at the juxtaposition, “whadda want, alpha?”

He glances up at him with eyes so dark Bucky isn’t sure how he can see clearly, his pupils huge despite the mass amount of light in the apartment’s living room. A low growl builds in the back of his throat, “you.” 

A burst of arousal hits Bucky so hard he whines aloud, the lean muscle in his thighs and abs tightening. God. His toes curl into the carpet as Steve's lips pull at his boxer's hem. 

Then, like magic, his dick is in Steve's mouth, his lips curled hotly around him. The obscene picture always making Bucky feel a particular kind of way- a little too hot with the embarrassment of knowing he physically cannot fit Steve's cock fully in his mouth while his own doesn't touch the back of his alpha's throat. Even when Steve takes all of him into his mouth, root to tip. He keens, tightening his fingers into the material of the couch, desperately trying not to buck up into his mouth. To not even accidentally try and take control over his alpha, he wants to be good, he wants to submit, to hand over his entire being so he can be used just to please Steve. 

He squirms under Steve’s administrations, whimpering as his hands curl around his hips literally pulling Bucky forward into his mouth, making his ass barely rest on the couch. His eyes roll back in his head at the feeling of wetness under his cheeks, God, just a few seconds of being under Steve’s control and he's dripped onto the couch, the tugging of his hands forcing a path of slick to paint the couch. 

Steve allows his omega's little cock to slip out of his mouth with a slightly patronizing remark of, "already 'mega, lookit you. Already leaking," he pinches the inside of Bucky’s thigh where his boxers have been tugged out of the way. "Already staining the couch," his eyes darken even more as he licks up the side of his dick with a growing rumble, "haveta make sure you don't make more of a mess, but you're still gonna 'cause you can't help it can you? Jus' dripping right onto the floor." 

Bucky whimpers and gasps sharply in one noise, not knowing whether he should move his hips forward in a silent plea to be back in the blonde's mouth or backward to the finger suddenly tracing his hole. And, yeah, he always forgets how sensitive his dick is. How easily he gets wet after it's touched. 

Steve reads his mind easily, pushing his index finger into his tight, sloppy, heat up to the second knuckle while giving his dick an appreciatively messy couple of licks. Drawling out, "this little thing is s' sensitive, makes you so easy, pretty thing." 

Bucky nods, frantic, he pulls the trigger on pushing down on Steve's fingers rather than up into his mouth. He can feel the fire building in his alpha, he can feel how much he needs his own release; he also knows how focused Steve is on him and that he won't chase his own pleasure before Bucky’s. Even in rut. The younger can barely take his own anticipation so having Steve’s there has got him on edge already. 

"Alpha," he gasps, hearing the rich squelch of his finger being enveloped in his slick as Steve presses it fully inside him. "More, c'mon. Wanna- wanna have your knot… wanna-" 

Steve shoves another fingertip inside him with a groan, his forehead pressing into the cut between Bucky’s thigh and hip. The smaller man can feel how hot he is, his temperature rising from the peak of rut. Bucky knows how awful that feels, being warm and sticky and wanting and needing and feeling like he doesn't fit in his own skin unless there's something stretching him out, making its own room inside him. 

He moans louder, clenching around Steve's exploring digits and not faking a single thing as his desperation colors his words, "y'need, you, ah! Ah!" Steve’s grinning into his skin, the alpha knows he's got his fingers right there. Pressing heavily into his sweet spot and simply rubbing, its got Bucky's toes cramping with how hard they're curling. Finally Bucky gets enough breath to whine out, "knot me. Ple-please. Knot-"

He stands, pulling the three of his fingers from the delicious pull of his body and wrapping them around his cock. The foreskin pulled back and his head dripping generously, the omega feels like he can't fully look at it. Like with the sun, if you look directly into it you'll go blind- only now if he looks and appreciates the glory of his mate's cock there will be no way he'll be able to stop himself from sucking at it until he chokes himself into unconsciousness from his sheer size. Instead Bucky also stands- allowing his boxers to fall completely down his lean form, his legs wobbling beneath him, muscles trembling in protest. His alpha looks at him strangely- he feels a stab of fear go through him, worrying he might be trying to get away -Steve growls uncertainly in his direction. 

Taking one last step Bucky chooses to drop to his knees, to crawl rather than walk to the center of the living room in order to show him that he's not a threat, not going to run away, they just need space so that Steve can satisfy his rutting urges. 

Throwing a shy look over his shoulder when he makes it to the center of the room he sees hunger in the purest form written across Steve's face, his eyes black, his nostrils flared, his lips dropped open and shiny as if he's been drooling. Bucky smiles as sweet as he can manage back at him. Hoping for innocence as he drops on his forearms, his ass directly facing his alpha to show off the slick just beginning to run down the insides of his thighs. The howl it rips out of his alpha is entirely worth the dull ache in his knees and palms, biting the inside of his cheek against the surge of joy. 

His gate is much more reminiscent of a prowl than just a walk as he approaches his omega, all the while a low rumble emanates from the back of his throat, he barely manages to make understandable words as he speaks, " 'mega, s' pretty, s' gorgeous, gonna breed you, make your bloated with how much cum I put in your cunt-" 

Bucky moans into the carpet, his fingers curling into the material and spreading his legs to entice him even more. He nods frantically, sure that if his eyes weren't squeezed shut they'd be rolling back into his skull impressively far, "want that- want, want my alpha." 

Aforementioned alpha is there in less than a second then, his possessive, protective instincts making him pet all of the available skin in front of him. Lowly murmuring words of praise into Bucky's skin reverently, kissing him between every brush of lips that intend to be words. Bucky’s not sure they are but he could care less. He clenches and unclenches his entrance, unable to find embarrassment in the audible wet sound it makes and just honing in on the rising fire it brings to Steve. Everywhere he's being touched feels like a brand. Like Steve’s heat is burning his name into his atoms, making him fully his. 

"In me-" Bucky wails, his fractured desires hitting the air barely separating them, a stray finger catching his slick folds between his wide spread legs. Tugging and pulling at the delicate muscles. 

Bucky shoves his hips back with all his might when Steve levels his cock with his entrance, whimpering at the beginning of the stretch the just makes him want even more. Greedy, he can hear Steve thinking. Not meant to be mean or degrading but rather the truth, he needs Steve. He wants him.

"Such a hungry cunt," he hums while he pushes in, his pace slow but forceful, "sure you're not in heat already 'mega? 'Cause you're sure desperate for it."

Bucky wants to tease him right back but his brain is too caught up in the /hot, wet, heavy, hot, tight/ pressing feeling that has his fingers curling and spasming without his control, simply reacting to the pleasure crashing over his system as Steve passes the halfway mark. His shaft splitting Bucky open wide, reaching all those places that he's just now realizing his toys or own fingers never could. Some of his saliva is already finding its way out of his mouth and onto the floor as he pants heavily, lips trembling from the pressure and fullness of his alpha's cock. 

He just frantically attempts to shake his head and keens incoherently. 

As Steve pushes fully in, his cock being consumed, hell, being /eaten up/ by Bucky’s body, a hand curls into the omega's wild hair, making his neck arch as his head is pulled back. Steve smirks at him from the corner of his vision field, hungrily asking, "you feel me in there 'mega?" He moans breathily, opening and shutting his mouth without voicing any words, "Yeah, Buck. You like my cock heavy in you, filling you full?"

Bucky tries to nod but fails when Steve tightens his grip on his hair so he can lean forward and bite over his neck and scent gland, soothing the harsh drag of his teeth with his tongue, Bucky just ends up wailing instead. Breath getting trapped in his throat because of the angle Steve's holding his head, mercilessly positioning his omega right where he wants him. The brunette feels drunk on it, like if he spoke he'd just slur and whimper for more because nothing else matters but the heat assaulting his body from the inside out. 

Then Steve snaps his hips forward the last half an inch. 

Bucky whines raggedly, sounding wrecked and needy to his own ears. Steve isn’t much better off, bitten off growls being heard from over his shoulder as he pumps his hips in tight circles, panting at the wet smack their colliding flesh makes. The hand that was incessantly tugging at his hair leaves in favor of holding his hulking alpha up, allowing his hips further room to move and setting off a frantic pace. 

Pounding Bucky into the floor with jagged breaths and little deep sounds, grunts and groans the small man only knows to be there because of their bond- his own high pitched noises drowning out the audible part of the sounds. 

Fire rockets up his spine, overflowing from between his legs to heat all of his body, his skin already sweaty and flushed. Sensitive to every brush of skin on skin. The hot press of Steve’s groin to his plush ass sends electric shocks to his brain that have him squealing a little, rhythmically pushing back into the sting and gasping. 

Steve keeps muttering under his harsh breaths, filthy praise that’s got his cheeks and even the tips of Bucky’s ears hot with blood. Talking about how he’s gonna stuff Bucky full of cum then if he could plug him up full even after his knot goes down, almost mournful as he wishes aloud that they’d thought ahead to buy a plug or something so Bucky could constantly be full. Then that, well, maybe they don’t need a plug- maybe they could use one of the toys he has. 

“Y’know, the ones that make you squeal and beg when you’re alone and in season. Body begging to be bred… hnng. Guh-” he groans gutterly, just as affected as Bucky. Lightning shooting from his spine to the rest of his nerves, making his body light up. “Could put one of those in you- could, could make you squirm with it. Probably would make you want it all the time, yeah?” Bucky whimpers, his forehead hitting the carpet. His hole tightens exquisitely over Steve’s forming knot, making his thrusts stutter slightly with a low moan. 

“Hmm, knew you’d like that-” his alpha says, somehow smug and also entirely genuine. “Not just that though-” he confesses breathlessly, “could also keep you with me- all the time, could make sure you’re ready whenever- when…” Bucky, even while out of his mind from being speared on Steve’s cock, isn’t sure how he’s got enough breath to speak. 

He mewls, processing the words and fighting to keep his legs from spreading far enough apart that he collapses in a melted puddle on the floor, “keep me ready all th-the time?” He helplessly prompts, squirming as best as he can and biting his lip hard enough to taste blood when Steve grabs his ass and spreads him just that much more. His knot catching on his rim and tugging it /just so/- making his teeth ache with the stretch of his growing girth. 

“Yeah,” he pauses, sounding relieved, “could keep you on the bed, ready and waiting. Probably would whine and moan pretty for me when you need it, yeah, ‘mega? You would, wouldn’t you?” 

Bucky head hears those words and runs with them, thinking about- no, vividly picturing what that would be like. Thinking about his limited experience with sensory deprivation and imagining how desperate he’d be, trapped under Steve’s mercy, tied to their bed. Maybe spread eagle with his hands cuffed- maybe, maybe a spreader bar keeping him open for when he got too lost in his need to keep them open. 

Steve makes a punched out noise half way between a howl and a groaning growl, obviously having also gotten a taste of Bucky’s feverish daydreaming, shoving his nearly fully blown knot into his omega, wedging it in him at the last moment before it becomes too big to fit inside him. 

Bucky sobs. His chest heaving painfully with it’s force, “pl-ple-please!” He chokes out, not knowing what he wants. Just that he wants his alpha to make the decision for him, to decide what he’s begging for, to know exactly what he needs when he himself doesn’t. 

Steve knows. 

Of course he knows. He pulls at Bucky’s hips, forcing his body to thrust back onto his cock and knot that’s rapidly locking into place instead of moving forward himself. It forces his cock’s head to stab at Bucky’s sweet-spot, making him cry out desperately, the sound literally getting fucked out of him. At the same time as he’s pulling back he’s pulling /up/ just the tiniest bit. Meaning Bucky’s knees come up off the floor… 

He squeals, feeling every muscle in his body tighten and squeeze as if his entire being is attempting to milk the knot from his alpha. Like this, suspended mid-air, he has no leverage and has to completely rely on Steve to make him feel good. It’s got his head reeling and sending his head somewhere else- making him feel like he’s floating. 

His dick jerks against his stomach and has him cumming in a soundless scream, his mouth hanging open and his muscles trembling, fluttering with the bombardment of pleasure and not knowing what the hell to do with it. His vision whites out, sparks of fire consuming him. 

As his sight returns to black, his eyes still shut, and he returns to Earth he hears Steve finish. 

He feels the pressure on his insides, forcing his muscles from their lock around his knot just to account for the sheer amount of cum pouring out of Steve and into him. He whines, struggling against the force, awe clawing up through his momentary panic when a hand cups the back of his neck. He’s not even being scruffed- it’s just the Pavlovian response to it happening before Steve can really do it, already calming him. 

His awe only grows after Steve quickly squeezes the back of his neck, immediately letting go. There’s so much wonderment in him that it spills out between his lips, one long continuous gasp, “alpha- alpha! Can, can feel you- I, I’m, I can feel myself opening for you like you’re meant to be there. Didn’t-” he whimpers as the pressure in him suddenly jumps, a particularly heavy amount of a cum being pumped out as a result of his words. “Didn’t think all o’ you could fit in me.” 

His last sentence is just one high pitched whine, Steve’s hips rolling as much as their connected bodies will allow for, fucking more watery, sweet release from his own dick. Slick leaking out between their bodies and spilling onto already dampened skin. Bucky keens, the hot rivlets of slick making it impossible for them to know where one ends and the other begins. 

“Yeah, Buck. Don’t know how you do it either-” sounding more like himself and just as awed as he is. Like afterthought Steve adds, “such a good home for my cock.” Bucky humps the air, whining thinly when his dick smacks his stomach and stings- overstimulated. His movement must remind Steve of their earlier round this morning because one of his shaky hands goes to his stomach- his alpha nearly purrs when he finds it protruding out once more. 

Steve kisses the side of his cheek wetly once he pulls them back up to sitting, mostly back to his dorkier self now that he’s gotten what he needs or he is until he speaks up. Patting Bucky’s stomach with a near growling chuckle, “too bad I don’t think that’d really work” sounding completely wistful as he speaks. 

“What?” Bucky turns his head to see Steve over his shoulder, his eyebrows coming together. Steve continues rubbing the bulge of his normally flat stomach, his knuckles occasionally hitting Bucky’s dick and making him gasp and rock back into Steve’s lap and subsequently his knot. 

Steve tucks his face closer to Bucky’s, deceptively sweet as they’re pressed back to chest, sitting in the middle of the living room, “I don’t think we could ever really plug you up.” He taps Bucky’s rim where they’re connected, the delicate skin sensitive enough to make Bucky’s mouth drop open and his body shiver. He chuckles before continuing on, “yeah, Buck. You can barely take one load from me, just look at this sweet tummy here.” Bucky does. He whimpers pathetically at the sight- Steve’s huge hand covering the slight protrusion of his stomach. “Jus’ don’t wanna hurt my little omega. And- I think that would be painful for you, filling you up so much… I like seeing you cry ‘cause everything feels so good, but, don’t think you’d be having those kinda tears.” 

Bucky nods, feeling a little defeated but locking lips with Steve takes his mind off of that so he keeps doing it. Purring into his mouth and enjoying his current position. His legs curled under himself and spilling out over Steve’s lap, his back against the blonde’s thick chest, completely naked and vulnerable but safe. 

They sit on the floor for maybe ten more minutes before Bucky insists they at least get up on the couch for the sake of Steve’s legs, not wanting to hear him moan about the ache of them later. Steve acquiesces, laughing while they try to figure out what the hell they can do to move and not tug on where they’re stuck together and cause pain for someone. Eventually Steve just tugs him down onto the floor but on their sides this time, the same way they tend to cuddle in bed just… on the living room floor. 

Bucky is able to reach for the TV remote with some slightly painful moving and they commit themselves to watching whatever's on until Steve can safely pull out. They also chat, not directly paying attention to the TV when they can just converse instead. 

“You sure you don’t feel like you’re going into heat, Buck?” Steve asks after a while of leaning on one elbow and looking down at the profile of his face. Studying his drowsy omega gleefully. 

“No, I don't think so but...” Bucky offers, uncertain, pursing his lips in disappointment, “I mean I could be in pre-heat, ‘cause, y’know if your mate is right there all the time-” he cut himself off with a shrug. It’s simple, usually the irritability of pre-heat only comes from other people doing things that upsets his omega instincts or from not being close enough to his mate (whether or not they’re an alpha because he has experiences to tell him that even with other designations it has that effect on him). 

“Any other of my symptoms would be masked by your rut I think.” He continues, listing his thoughts aloud, “stuff like libido, wanting to mark you, wanting to be near you twenty four seven, protective instincts, raise in body temperature, etcetera.” Steve presses the back of his hand to Bucky’s forehead, he coos softly, leaning into the touch. 

“You do feel warm, well, warmer than I would expect you to.” His eyes drop to their tangled bodies, indicating that Bucky is warmer but that it’s most likely either from over-excursion or his close vicinity to Steve who is warmed up as a result of his cycle. Still it’s something, possibly the only thing they would be able to rely on.

“Yeah, I don’t know.” He kisses the corner of Steve’s frown, “I’ll get some tests put in at the hospital when I go back if you don’t trigger me.” Steve nods, still frowning but less so, looking as content as he can when his rut is demanding he take care of his omega’s every need. 

By the time they’re beginning to think about getting ready for bed Steve’s knotted Bucky a total of four times that day already, without having to double knot him once because they've apparently cracked the code with the scruffing, the time between waves averaging out to just around three and a half hours, his first urge hitting at rough seven thirty, then ten, then one thirty- nearly two, then five pm when they had been trying to figure out what to have for dinner, and now eight thirty. Both of them lounging in the living room, laying out comfortably, clothed in barely anything. Just thin underwear. 

Steve’s been shifting every minute or so for the last ten, discreetly trying to starve off the urge in a way that Bucky doesn’t think is intentional but he’s been enjoying the show nevertheless. Stealing peeks over at his mate. Watching in quick snippets of how he goes from relaxed and chilling, spread out in the armchair diagonal to their TV with his laptop covering his crotch to tense and squirmy, shutting his laptop to watch whatever’s on the TV at this point. His cock chubbing up and becoming too sensitive for him to continue using his computer, tenting his boxers. Bucky’s mouth watering when he spreads his legs- trying to get more comfortable but really just advertising his massive bulge to Bucky’s sharp eyes. 

“You wanna-”

“Could we-”

They both cut off in shock, speaking exactly at the same time as the other without meaning to. Bucky takes up the empty air, projecting his best non threatening, calm, omega voice over to Steve, “you wanna head to bed early?” He tiptoes around Steve’s situation playfully, batting his eyelashes a little at the alpha while he tilts his head to the side. Advertising his neck, not bitten but still marked up significantly, hickeys littering the tan expanse of skin. 

The blonde pants, a quiet growl building in his throat but be replaced with the sudden need for air, Bucky feels a bit cruel. Teasing his alpha when he’s in season and very clearly needing his omega badly. He gets up, swaying his basically bare hips as he saunters over to Steve’s side of the room. Perching himself in his lap with a giggling purr- his face is priceless. 

Awed. Shocked. Hungry. 

His little show gets a true growl out of the bigger man, his hands sinking into the plush cushion of Bucky’s ass while his teeth sink back into a spot he’s already marked on his neck, making Bucky gasp. His hips rocking forward into Steve’s on impulse, clambering with uncoordinated hands for purchase on his body. His shoulders, neck, arms- anything. 

He doesn’t end up grabbing on anywhere because Steve just hauls him up to his feet and just throws his lean body over his shoulder, laughing gleefully at the squawk that comes out of Bucky, being entirely unprepared for the action. His arms tightening over Bucky in an overprotective way, squeezing him hard enough it’s kind of hot. 

It’s got Bucky picturing handprint sized bruises and aching muscles, wondering if while he’s in heat Steve will let him even lift a finger or just decide to carry him everywhere. It makes him feel smaller than his five seven frame; it makes Steve feel much larger, much more powerful than his six two frame. It’s making Bucky’s cock perk up in his underwear, sending static down to his fingers and heating his cheeks (both sets of cheeks)... which makes him wonder, is it possible that he has bruises on his ass from how hard Steve’s been fucking into him? Because it sure as hell /feels/ like it. Surely it’s at least cherry red from the treatment if not purpled. 

Caught up in the carousel of thoughts he’s riding makes him gasp with shock, Steve’s body suddenly disappearing from under him and being replaced by air then by bedding. Oh. 

Steve’s climbing onto the bed and positioning himself over his omega, an impish smirk painting his handsome face to one of deviancy, “not fair.” Bucky halfheartedly complains, whining because he can. The resulting chuckle that it pulls from Steve vibrates through his chest where they’re pinned together, he swallows, staring into the deeply innate look darkening his alpha’s eyes. Lust. 

Stifling a helpless noise Bucky goes for casual, “where do you want me?” 

It doesn’t work. His voice comes out gasping, affected by the way Steve’s ripping his boxer briefs down his thighs, stopping to leave them restricting his legs in favor of shoving his nose to the scent glands around the base of his dick. Breathing in and releasing a gutted groan. 

Having his alpha there, engaging in such an intimate version of scenting, has him giggling happily, not knowing why his reaction is that until he decodes his visceral feelings. His alpha’s taking comfort in just his smell. Just the scent of his omega has his peaked need to rut dropping- calming him down. 

The heady rush of elation makes him feel powerful, having so much influence over his alpha, being able to calm the pure innate, uncontrollable nature of his rut. 

When the blonde doesn’t seem to be willing to move from where he’s practically drinking in the brunette so he starts to get things going on his own, twisting his torso in preparation to turn himself over. Knowing Steve has to control the pace of his thrusts to satisfy his cravings and that the most efficient way to tame those urges is to go at it in ‘doggy style’- to have Steve mount him. 

Which works wonderfully for both ruts and heats, the reasoning from a scientific, biological standpoint being that supposedly having the omega’s face down and hips tilted up and out makes for the easiest conception. The position opens the omega’s entrance and assists the alpha’s cock in reaching as close as it can to the omega’s womb without harming them. 

Yet when he tries to move himself into that pose Steve growls, biting down on the meat of his inner thigh just enough to pull a powerful gasp out of Bucky- he stills. Understanding Steve apparently does want him to move or just isn’t ready for him to, not being done with scenting him he supposes. 

His alpha crawls up his body then, kissing and licking the skin excessively, sending shivers dancing over all of Bucky’s flushed skin. He nuzzles into his neck the second he’s high enough to do so, pinning his omega down with all of his weight. Bucky’s muscles melt instinctively although the damn near sixty pounds of muscle the alpha has on him doesn’t hurt in making him relax as if having been shot with a tranquilizer. 

Connecting their lips messily, fucking his tongue in and out of the smaller man’s lax mouth, Steve pants out fragments of sentences, “think you might be to achy ‘mega, might-” a string of heated open mouth kisses and hungry noises follow his low words. “Might not feel so good if I take you like that again,” Bucky whines weakly, shaking his head and urgently kissing Steve as if it’ll convince him. Nothing will convince his stubborn alpha it seems. 

The way Steve fists his fingers over his cock, forcing little mewls of pleasure out of him without flipping him over but keeping him pinned is perfect evidence to that point of being stubborn. Abandoning his mouth for a moment to get rid of his own boxers and then fully strip Bucky of his he lets his head roll back into the sheets. Feeling the pounding of Steve’s rut like the sweetest of headaches pulsing through his mind. 

“S’ okay- lemme jus’...” Steve softens his tone, talking into his mouth before returning to claim his mouth. “Don’ want you getting fucked out before your heat-” he hushes, smiling at the wrecked sound it pulls from his throat. 

His fingers leave Bucky’s dick as quick as they come, just long enough to make him slick up even more Bucky realizes with a quiet moan, his head spinning with trying to figure out what the hell Steve is doing. Knowing that, yes, by this point his muscles and the entire rest of his body knows that his partner is in season and as a result his cunt should stay ready to take his alpha’s knot and not tighten- save for if it’s around a knot but that Steve’s not that kind of alpha. Even when in rut and barely in control of himself. He would always check first- he has always -and Bucky knows in his heart that he would never-

Oh. 

Bucky moans hoarsely, a whine or wheeze or whimper sliding into the needy sound leaving him as Steve pulls his thighs together tightly and moves them so his own knees are up by his ribs. Bending him into a pretzel and standing up on his knees, sliding his cock between the hot, wet clench of his omega’s legs. 

Bucky whimpers like it’s his cunt that Steve’s fucking, flexing his thighs and blushing so hard he’s surprised his dick stays full at the filthy noises happening. Steve’s face is overwhelmed with pleasure that looks so appealing on him that Bucky feels a stab of completely irrational defensiveness at the idea that his thighs are making him feel that way when his cunt could be.

Thankfully it disappears so quickly Steve can’t pick up on it and throw himself on that grenade for him or deny himself the need to rut to reassure him. Instead he just keeps plowing his thighs and Bucky realizes that the movement makes his own thighs rub up against his dripping folds and is giving him just the perfect amount of pressure and friction, startling a whimper out of him with a heaved breath, his neck arching with it. And of fucking coarse Steve was right without Bucky knowing it until he’s shown proof. 

The indirect stimulation to his hole is good, immensely pleasurable without the complete there-ness of something teetering between too much and painful. Not that it had been awful, he didn’t even notice it but, yeah, not having the assistance of swollen tissues and the extra thick slick produced during heat is taking a toll. A small one- but still. 

It’s fantastic. Just what he can handle while bringing him toward the crest of orgasm despite not having any direct contact with any of his, or any of what he thought was an endogenous zone. 

Steve’s hips pump in the same way they do when fucking him, deep and hard, dragging the throbbing, hot flesh of his cock back and forth through the mess of slick clinging to Bucky’s thighs. The tip of his cock hitting Bucky’s stomach with every full pulse forward, the fronts of his legs smashing his dick in an overwhelming way. He’s whimpering and trying his hardest not to squirm too much. Hot from the jaw dropping friction to his dick, the noises Steve’s making in addition to his expression, the visual of seeing his alpha’s cock while he’s getting off, and just the pure humiliation of just being /used/ by Steve. 

His lips betray him, whining out his thoughts for Steve to hear and process, “love, love watching you use me- ah!” He moans sharply at the quick drag of Steve’s fingers over one of his nipples, “mmh! Gah! C’mon,” he lays it on thickly, needily whimpering under his alpha. “C’mon- want you to. Want you to use me, use my body to get yourself offff-” 

His words are dragged out like the roll of Steve’s hips as the alpha presses more wicked pinches to his nipples, growling under his breath at being able to please his omega still. Bucky’s chest has been set ablaze, moaning at the lighter fluid and matches Steve’s got in his palms, the fire dripping down to his cock and entrance- more slick leaking from him. 

“Wanna see you knot me, wanna, want,” he sobs, Steve’s fingers switching nipples and his lips coming down to bite at the part of his thigh that he can reach. 

“Use me like a, a toy! Please!” The words come out of him without thinking and Steve’s jaw clenches tighter around the part of Bucky he has in his mouth, Bucky feels tears leak out of the corner of one of his eyes, his own words hitting him. Awakening him to just how much he wants that. 

Steve’s voice is feral, rough and gravely, “yeah, ‘mega, want me to cum all over you? Dirty you up like you’re a toy ‘m just using to blow off steam? Huh?” He noses at Bucky’s face, quickly lapping at the single tear track there with a groan. 

Bucky nods frantically, tilting his chin up for a kiss, feeling the way Steve’s having trouble shoving his almost fully expanded knot into the channel of his thighs. The second their lips touch Steve’s licking into his mouth, tasting him and growling, demanding that Bucky open up to him. He does happily, whining into his mouth. 

When they stop kissing to breathe, or rather to pant into each other's gaping mouths with strings of spit connecting them- messy and just downright filthy, Steve nips his bottom lip, “ ‘mega” he breaths out hotly. 

“Wanna see you touch yourself,” pausing to groan Steve stops touching his chest and grips his jaw. Speaking into his mouth and forcing Bucky to stare directly at him, “know you want me to use you but, wanna see you lose it pretty thing. Want you to cum and them m’ gonna cum all over you. Dirty you up even more.” 

Bucky barely swallows his wail, choking on it and getting to Steve’s order, instantly going to wrap his fingers around his dick. Nearly crying with relief, his thighs begin to tremble on either side of his alpha’s cock because of the stimulation to his dick. Steve moans roughly, brushing his lips over Bucky’s ear and putting his legs over his shoulders, abandoning fucking his thighs and also just putting a hand around his cock. 

Both of his hands needed for the job, Bucky whimpers, wanting to bare even more submission to his alpha somehow, watching with wide eyes as he grabs his filling out knot with one hand and fucks into his other. Bucky tries to copy his movements but can’t, he can’t thrust forward into his hand with all of Steve on top of him. 

He returns to stroking his hand up and down his dick, feeling more and more slick leak out of him with the sweet lightning attacking the base of his spine. Pitiful, weak noises coming out of him like it’s the only thing he can do. His muscles slowly turn to jelly as he climbs closer. 

He loses it just after Steve growls into his ear, his toes curling as he muses, “wonder how much a’ you I could cover in cum if just one load makes your little tummy bulge?” 

Bucky cums. Steve’s name being choked on as he makes more noise- more reasons for the neighbours to file a noise complaint or call the cops. His eyes squeezed shut and still seeing stars, his cunt clenching and pushing more slick out of him, listening to Steve’s wet palm sliding over his cock, hearing his words echo in his head. His neck going limp and exposing all of that sweet, marked up skin for his alpha. 

The only encouragement he can manage is a tiny little, “please, alpha.” 

It’s enough though apparently, feeling a gush of cum land over his own dick, covering his hand too, his stomach becoming a lake of release. Dripping off of his torso and saturating the sheets under him in the gap between where his rib cage sits and where his hips begin. He whines softly, letting go of his achy dick and opening up his eyes. 

Watching just the end of Steve’s orgasm, his eyes rolling back into his head and a low, rumbling groan pouring out of his lips. Both his hands squeeze at the inflated skin of his knot, not even touching the rest of his cock anymore, just paying specific attention to that area instead. Bucky’s orgasm stupid brain decides to collect enough of his own slick on his hand to coat his palm and the inside of his fingers, reaching out and stroking his shaft. 

Steve’s eyes snap open as his hips snap forward, a feral snarl cutting into the air and making Bucky purr harshly in response, more cum finds its way out of his cock. Spreading into the endless amount already covering him, Bucky coos, either at the feeling of having more cum on him or from pleasing his alpha- he’s not sure. 

Either way it’s got him high on feel good hormones, his scent mellowing from the sickly sweet smell of arousal to a more soft, easy happy smell. 

Steve bends forward, chasing the smell all the while keeping one hand clenched around his knot. He licks at Bucky’s scent gland like he can taste his cheeriness. The brunette goes to pet his hair before realizing that both his hands are gross, he wrinkles his nose and drops them both, palms flat down, onto the expanse of Steve’s back. 

“Good?” He asks, licking his lips. 

Steve nods into his neck and sighs, his eyelashes fluttering against Bucky’s neck meaning he’s probably opened his eyes, Bucky purrs more. The blonde lets him know he’s coming back down by sliding their bodies together and displacing more of their combined release onto the sheets and by cupping his ribs with both hands on either side of his body. His knot not having gone down yet but being not so sensitive that it hurts him to not have constriction around it. 

Bucky wiggles under him, “Steeeve,” he whines, not minding that he’s going to reek of his alpha (more like alpha cum but… he’s not planning on talking about that) but he’s certainly not having the best time with all the wet fluids between their bodies. 

His alpha snorts, elegantly, “yeah?” He questions, lifting his head and obviously knowing what he’s doing. 

“Sticky,” is all Bucky can manage, staring up at the ceiling. 

“...want me to do something about it or-”

“Please.” Steve kisses him for his manners, lifting his weight off of him and returning with a towel and the promise that while Bucky washes off in the shower he’ll change their sheets. He’s about to argue that it should be the other way around since Steve is the one in rut but realizes how dumb it would be considering the amount of sticky shit on him that a towel couldn’t remove.

He does as Steve suggests, only pretending to be upset briefly before complying to see the other man laugh. 

Steve wakes up groggily, a growl still echoing in their room, for a second it raises Steve hackels completely, his eyes shooting open and scanning the room for intruders that aren’t shadow monsters. Halfway through his protective urging and sweep of the bedroom he’s hit with the realization that the echo has stopped and was mostly in his head anyway. It was his own growl. His own sort of mating call. 

His body’s on fire anyway, so if not waking up from his own sounds he would’ve anyway, the urge to rut exponentially rising from being awake. He glances at the clock on the nightstand, six twelve am, the loose skin where his knot will be is almost halfway expanded already he realizes as he does his self-examination. Calling to be shoved in something hot and tight and wet and- okay he’s getting carried away. 

Though it’s not as bad as it should be? According to Bucky his rut peaks every three and a half hours, or around then, but as he does the math (which takes him way too long and that will be blamed on the time) he knows he should’ve woken up hours ago. 

The last time he knotted was ten last night and eight thirty ish before that- so he should’ve woken up at least once between those because his rut tends to slow down if he needs to sleep because biology thankfully does understand you can’t knock someone up while half asleep. 

With one quick squeeze to his cock he decides he should shower and that if it comes down to it, it being if he needs to rut super bad after he wakes up more, he can just towel off super quick and wake up Bucky then. He’s knotted him enough times he’s lost count, he deserves some rest and actually- 

He tosses a quick look to the omega, a warm smile tugging at his lips, he probably knows the exact amount of times Steve’s knotted because that seems like something his fantastically smart omega would do. He nods to Bucky’s sleeping form, eyes not straying from the back of his head and heading in the bathroom. 

Steve cuts his shower short, only washing the areas where he knows he needs it or where there’s dried bodily fluids, his hindbrain tugging him back to his omega. And as he thought his cock wakes up more with him but that’s not it- 

Not really, there’s just… something else. 

And for the second time that morning he feels spooked, drying off quickly, his ears metaphorically perked up and listening. He doesn’t even stop to put on underwear or his bathrobe or anything. He just releases the steam from the master bathroom into the bedroom, the mock fog quickly dissipating as he searches the room for shapes that don’t belong once more. Eyes creeping around with a prepared warning growl trapped in his chest, he stands still for who knows how long before his eyes slide over the easy sight that is his omega. 

This time he quickly scans the shape of him from head to toe, his front pressed to the mattress in the way Steve knows he prefers to sleep and his head is still turned away from him. Good, he thinks, padding forward slowly. 

More blood rushes to his cock when he reaches the edge of the bed, leaving him light headed and growling. He doesn’t dare get on the bed just yet, not wanting to disturb the beauty. His body thrumming with his heart rate just looking at the sight his omega makes, his smaller body completely bare, flushed and shining in the low light of the summer, the new light blue spare set of sheets he’d bought a couple of months back enhancing the natural tan of his skin where they lie around him, not concealing a damn thing. He looks ethereal. 

Innocent and rare. 

He’s mostly still for the first short eternity Steve spends staring but then grows restless under his gaze, reacting like he can feel the potency of the eyes on him, his muscles tensing then releasing under porcelain skin, and-

Okay, yeah, that- that’s not something Steve would ever deserve to see if he lived a million years. Oh, god. Oh. 

A not very tough alpha noise escapes his throat, coloring the early morning atmosphere darker. 

Steve’s face goes hot, feeling like he’s been caught red handed doing something he shouldn’t have been, groaning to himself when he feels his knot swell more. His hand impulsively dips down, cupping his cock gently and trying to self-soothe or to make it worse by touching himself. He’s not sure yet but the skin is tingling, his hindbrain growling unhappily when he doesn’t move immediately to wake up and then take his omega. 

He stays rooted to the ground when Bucky’s movements become choppier, more restless and desperate and Steve understands why his instincts pulled him out of the shower. Why they woke him up. He gets it, he understands now but was misconstrued by his thoughts- believing the cause to be rut when really Bucky’s in heat. 

His mate’s half of the bond calling out to him, tugging on the web of rope between them and making Steve dance like a paper in the wind. He feels it in his heart, in his bones now. The certainty falling into his lap heavily, nearly knocking him off his feet. 

And he does intend to wake Bucky up- he does see it in his mind’s eyes, reaching out to shake his shoulders, being able to feel how high his temperature has risen and then flipping him over just to inspect the amount of slick hiding under his body. To roll himself in the smell wafting off of him and to try and figure out how long he’s been humping the bed on and off to try and get relief- even in his sleep. 

But then his omega makes a noise. 

It has Steve practically teleporting across the bed- the little choked cry that sounds so helpless and desperate that Steve immediately can tell he’s been crying in his sleep while humping into the mattress. The noise is accompanied by a much more coherent roll of his hips, one that says if he’s not already awake he will be in a second. His arms come to life from where they were lying next to him, uncurling and re-gripping the sheets. 

“Bucky?” Steve whisper-shouts, earning a gasping sob and a much more enthusiastic thrust of his hips, the sight of his ass jiggling slightly with the movement has Steve’s rationale flying out through the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Apologies for another cliffhanger, I just really wanted people to be able to read and enjoy this part of the story as soon as I finished writing it and I felt that if I didn't stop here the chapter would go on for like /years/ so, yeah.)


	14. XIV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's heat has arrived and Steve's rut has peeked again, so I suppose you can figure out what they're doing with their morning.

Bucky comes into the morning with a noise that doesn’t register in his own mind as being dirty or particularly raunchy as it really is, to his own ears and mind it’s just a normal sigh, sure, it’s a louder sound than what he usually makes but still. He’s just kind of hazy- too hazy for him to really care to investigate, hitting that sweet spot between sleep and wakefulness perfectly. Nothing feels off to him.

Or not until his hips decide the mattress is the perfect place for them to be right then and there. 

And, oh, holy hell- he whimpers into the air, his throat dried from his lips being parted in his sleep, his eyes try and open before they discover that flash of pleasure that rushes through him with fury. Then they snap shut again, not sparing a single fuck to the light beyond the back of his eyelids when something can feel so good. 

He does it again, rubbing his hips into the mattress and panting, whining and choking on the electricity of it, everywhere from his head to his toes shivering with pleasure. He feels hot, it’s the first thing he recognizes as being strange- the pure heat radiating from his own body so much so he can’t be sure if Steve is still laying next to him in bed or not. His dick twitches and his hole throbs at the same time and he's pressing his hips down as hard as he can, focused on getting rid of the hot need controlling his brain and-

“Bucky?” 

Steve thinks, trying to reply and not managing anything beyond another roll of his hips and heavy gasp. His face feels wet he realizes, nosing the sheets without opening his eyes yet, sweat dripping from down his temple to his cheek and even lower. And now that he’s thinking of dampness he’s discovering the soaked surface of the bed below his body, particularly between his legs. He keens loud. 

Steve, he remembers suddenly. 

Trying to say his name doesn’t really work because the only thing that will come out of him is one syllable sounds that are more breath than actual words, he whimpers again- the most helpless, pitiful pup sound he’s ever heard come out of him. He wants Steve. He wants- he wants… 

He’s really hot. Like boiling his insides hot, like dripping and soaking the sheets hot, like his muscles hurt because he’s so hot. And-

Oh. Hot. Heat!

A tiny, breathless ‘ah!’ falls out of his lips and is quickly swallowed by the sheets below him, if this is his heat why the /hell/ is he so fucking hot? Also why does everything ache so bad? Why isn’t Steve touching him? Bucky lifts his head, the motion slow and weak as he intends to search for his alpha, his legs already shaking before he can get them under himself. He tries desperately to hold it the whine from the loss of friction to his dick but it doesn’t work, instead it just tumbles out of his lips with tears that have decided to materialize out of nowhere and his skin even more wet. 

But it’s worth it because before he can even get in a position to kneel on their bed there’s a much bigger body blanketing his own. He keens in relief, leaning all his weight back onto his alpha, more tears fall from his half open eyes. Everywhere he’s touching isn’t as hot. Normally Steve is a furnace, keeping him comfortably warm whereas usually he’s too cold, but now he is an ice pack. Cooling the frantic flames and fizzling electricity that aren’t even under his skin like normal arousal, no, now they freely rome his skin. Inside and out. 

“Bucky, baby, can you talk to me?” 

/Steve/ is the only thing Bucky registers for a while, gasping with the reminder that his alpha is here and his alpha is the /best/, oh, his alpha’s gonna take such good care of him. His alpha’s gonna-

“Stttte,” is as far as he can get with words, grasping on to the comfort of his alpha’s hands that are all over him. 

“Words Buck-” he whines, he can’t. Steve seems to understand somewhat, licking over his scent gland and lightly holding him at the nape of his neck, asking more words that Bucky’s hard pressed to understand with his heat melting his brain, his alpha being the only ice to that burn, “at least tell me what’s going on baby, just one word. C’mon.” 

“Hot.” He chokes out, desperate for Steve to at least keep doing whatever it is that’s cooling him off or-

Steve laughs softly into the curve of his neck, moving his hand to his chest with a soft, “okay that’s fair, you’re in heat yeah?” Bucky nods, tilting his head further from Steve’s to give the alpha room to bite him if he pleases. Steve’s moving them then, his hands gentle as they always are but underlined with the strength that his rut demands he use. 

Then he’s not touching him anymore. 

“Worse,” Bucky sputters out, clinging as hard as he can to his alpha. Choking on his tears and words and gasping at the way his urges flare again and sticking his lower lip out and opening his eyes as wide as he can make them. The unintentional moves work though. Instantly. Steve’s rubbing his hands and subsequently his wrists, so he can drag the glands there down over Bucky’s form for scent marking, soothing him with his touch. Bucky moans, breathing in deeper than he’s been able to all night? Morning? Well, just deeper than he’s been able to since he’s woken up. 

“Shhh, it’s okay, I wasn’t going anywhere- jus’ was gonna turn you around so I can see your pretty face.” Bucky sighs, kissing the hand that’s come up to brush over his face. Steve’s aroused scent mellows with contentedness for a moment, “yeah, okay, lesson learned- this is good. Well- it’s probably better this way to…” he voice trails off, being too polite to outright say that it’s going to be much easier to satisfy his heat this way. To mount him from behind. 

And suddenly, terrible symptoms aside, he wants it. That. Now. 

He wriggles in his alpha’s grip, spreading his thighs and running his own hands over the forearms and hands that are on his chest, nonverbally telling Steve to keep them there, and rocks forward. Landing inelegantly but happily. His alpha pressed fully against him while Bucky can present. His knees propping his ass and hips up for Steve and his face down in the sheets that smell embarrassingly strongly of him. 

Steve growls unintentionally, lowly, it slips out of him and vibrates through Bucky. He squirms more, his thoughts piecing together a bit more, clear headed from the tease to his instincts that gives his rational brain more room to work, “rut?” The word comes out of his mouth and is muffled because of the sheets in and around his mouth. 

“Hmmm, I woke up needing it but not that bad, figured because you went into heat during the night that I didn’t need it. Was too focused on making sure you’re okay I think.” 

It’s a lot of words coming out of his mouth but they sound right so he purrs in agreement, it might have been that or maybe he-

Bucky loses his train of thought entirely, feeling the half blown bulge of Steve’s knot sitting at his upper thighs, right there, so close to where he needs it. His legs start to shake again, not from excursion but from want. He moans and tries to move, to squirm, maybe just wiggle a little but he can’t. He’s trapped himself under his alpha- where he belongs, his hindbrain tells him enthusiastically. 

Steve groans into his neck, biting just to the side of his scent gland and then soothing the hurt with his tongue, “you need somethin’, ‘mega?”

Bucky wails, trying to nod while also pressing back into Steve and also just trembling in place and wanting to sob until Steve shoves inside of him, needing it. Craving it- his mouth watering. Steve hushes him, cooing and moving one of his hands from his chest to his little dick. Bucky tastes his own tears when he opens his mouth to pant wetly, squirming and whimpering under his weight. 

He hushes him once more, “jus’ the first one I promise, ‘mega, then you’ll get what you want. Jus’ wanna take you off the edge first, ‘kay?” 

Bucky doesn’t understand a word of it, the hand around him having worked him back up to the incoherency he was when he woke up humping into the bed and leaking everywhere. Steve keeps making soft but deep noises, ensuring Bucky can hear everyone of them while dragging his huge, calloused palm up and down his short length. Growling out filthy praise about how tiny his little dick is, about how good he’s gonna fuck him. How good he’s gonna breed him up with them both in season. Both fertile and ready to go. How far he’ll shove his knot into him, how big he’s gonna make his tummy with his cum. 

Bucky sobs and wails, his tears flowing out of him freely, chasing the feeling on his dick with little to no finesse, just jerking into whatever feels good. Whimpering and trying to telepathically get his alpha to just shove his cock into him. He’s open enough. He knows it. 

“Jus’ cum once for me ‘mega, once then you’ll get what you want. I promise,” the words are whisper-growled into his ear like they’re a secret, so precious that even the rest of the empty room doesn’t deserve to hear them. 

Bucky obeys with a high pitched keen. 

Getting thrown over the edge in what feels like seconds after Steve started to touch him in that way but what also could’ve been after years. Wailing and throwing his head back with the heady pleasure-pain of cumming in heat without having something stuffed into him. Eyes rolling back and whiting out, his fingering squeezing his own skin with the toe curling pleasure, his hands tangled under his own collapsed torso. 

Steve hums behind him, his touches lingering long enough to comfort but not long enough to make his omega whine unhappily or in pain from overstimulation. And when he does stop touching he doesn’t move away, he continues to blanket the brunette and just pet him. Making sure he knows he’s right there and privately fighting against the urge to pound such a sweet creature into the mattress and possibly through it. 

“Guh- thanks,” Bucky offers after a while, his throat dry but his head a touch clearer than it had been before. 

“No problem,” the younger man can hear the smile in his voice as well as feel it on his very sensitive skin, sweat making them slide together easily. 

Bucky’s internal clock tells him that they lie there, pressing into each other and not moving, for just two or three minutes before Bucky’s responding heat ramps up to his alpha’s boiling over rut. His hips wiggling on their own, a soft, needy sound breaching his lips and letting Steve know what he needs. Between his legs it feels like he’s on fire and also like he’s been rubbed raw enough that the blood there is throbbing with his heart, as if Steve hadn’t shaved in a few days and decided to eat him out viciously, leaving a healthy amount of beard burn behind. 

His alpha growls, his own pelvis dragging forward and placing his cock where Bucky needs it most. 

“Alpha- alpha, need you, please. Ple-please-” he’s gasping out, spreading his legs apart, wide enough Steve’s massive shoulders could sit between them. Steve grabs his hips as he sits himself up, the wind being knocked from him from Bucky’s words and then from the sight he’s greeted with; his omega’s swollen, puffy, brilliantly pink rim nestled between his legs. His dick is also engorged with his heat and when his alpha’s gaze flows over the flesh it twitches like it knows. Bucky’s still half-consciously whimpering and trying to somehow make himself more desirable, Steve doesn’t know- doesn’t think it’s possible. 

The blonde cuts off another wail of “alpha” with his fingers, plunging into Bucky’s core, two on the first try because his rut might drive him insane if he doesn’t get his cock in him in the next five minutes. Hell, he might implode if he can’t get his cock in him before then. The intrusion quiets Bucky for a moment- probably just from the surprise of it but then he’s trying to rock back and get more. 

Steve’s other hand abandons its journey to his omega’s hip half way, realizing with a hot coil of arousal that he doesn’t need to stop him from moving because he’s already stretched. Or it feels like it. And he’s convinced he’s already drooling because of how fucking /hot/ and /wet/ his omega is inside- hell, he thought Bucky was an angel before but its nothing comparitively-

What’s left of Bucky’s rational brain is chastising him for being so greedy- pushing back onto Steve when he’s already got two fingers in him but it’s not enough. It’s a drop of water on his tongue in a desert, just a tease of what he needs. Besides it’s not like it hurts, what hurts is the heat that’s making him feel like he’s in a /Wicked Witch/ situation- sticking his head into an oven but instead it’s his entire being -his stomach also hurts. It’s cramping around the thickness and length of Steve’s fingers that on a normal day feels like more than enough because have you /seen/ his hands, but now it’s making his muscles that know how perfectly large his mate’s cock and knot are clench too hard in an attempt to lock around him. 

He realizes once his lips close after another noise that he has been making sounds, harsh wails and bitten off gasps that hopefully will make Steve take pity on him and just put that cock in him. Another round of cramps has him gasping in pain instead. 

“Please,” falls out of his lips breaking at the exact time the bubbling tears in his eyes spill over, “nnneed it. Plea-please! Please! Need it, alpha. I, ah!-” Steve shoves into him or, well, he shoves into Bucky as much as his regular personality will allow him to. Stopping just an inch or so below the head of his cock to let Bucky’s body adjust. 

The omega knows his alpha’s rut has to be giving him hell right now but he can’t get over the all encompassing nature of his own heat. He’s never had one this bed before and he doesn’t have time to figure out if it’s because for once he has a rutting alpha ready and waiting for him or if it’s because his cycle was so held off that the waiting is making it seem worse. He just needs more of Steve’s cock in him and is actually going to scream if he can’t get it. 

He whimpers his best ‘you have to take care of me alpha because I can’t do it myself’ noise and swallows more of his own salty tears when his stomach and internal muscles keep jumping and clamping down on his mate’s cock. Steve shoves in more with a groan, moaning at the strength of the pull of his insides. 

“Alpha!” Bucky sobs the second his cock is fully inside him, tears freely falling at a constant rate now. His hands not even gripping the sheets anymore, they’ve just gone limp and have decided to occasionally twitch with the force of the pleasure he’s receiving. Steve stuffed inside him, rubbing against his sweet spot and his walls and making him feel whole. 

Steve lightly smacks a hand over his stomach, his rut making his motions jerky at best when he’s not thrusting, the heat of his palm has Bucky’s abs behaving. Turning to jelly rather than rippling concrete. 

He gasps in relief but then is realizing his alpha isn’t moving and it’s worse than before. His cramps made it feel like he was moving but he’s not and it /hurts/. 

He sobs and wails in one noise, trying his hardest to speak, “wanna- want, I, you need to- please! Nnnn-need-” he’s whimpering out garbled words, not even sure where he’s going to go with any of it but knowing he needs to get Steve to do something dammit. 

The sound of their skin colliding hits Bucky before the swell of pleasure does. Although when his brain is able to finally realize the gravity of what’s going on he screams. His head falls somehow deeper into the mattress with his eyes sliding shut and mouth falling open, his tongue nearly spilling out of his mouth with the onslaught of white-hot pleasure. Then he registers that Steve’s knot is filling up steadily as he thrusts rapidly in and out and oh, oh fuck. He needs. He needs that. Right now. 

He wails, his useless hands not helping at all to try and get him to push back onto his cock, no help in getting him to impale himself further. The muscles in his thighs tremble and jump with the tidal wave of electricity, simultaneously trying to spread him wider and close his legs and he doesn’t know what to do. 

He just sobs, his head having turned to the side who knows when, tears spilling out of him faster than the feminine fucked-out noises he’s making can. He squeezes around Steve, almost making himself cramp with the strength required for the movement. Then the part of his omega hindbrain that needs to please kicks in, demanding he somehow talk his alpha to his finish when he can’t even breathe properly. 

Briefly he bites the sheets he’s been drooling into, gathering his internal monologue to what he wants his alpha to do rather than just a running commentary on what he is currently doing and then it’s- the filth is spilling from his lax lips. Garbled and desperate sounding. 

“Ple-please! Need you to, to- you haveta, haveta knot me alpha. Alpha. Need need, you gotta fill me up.” Bucky sobs a little harder, feeling Steve swell and throb deep in him. The tip of his cock practically kissing his womb with how deep he’s getting, pushing his omega down with a big palm over his shoulders and growling, obeying without thinking. 

“ ‘Mega, yeah, gonna breed you up heavy.” He practically snarls, snapping his hips harder. 

Bucky’s fucking cunt clenches around him, trying to milk his orgasm out with the pull of his muscles. It feels as if his face is just as wet as between his legs, tears and drool inseparable on his skin. “Wanna be full. F-fuck me full until, until- ah! Ah! Ahhh-ple -!” 

Steve’s hands grasp at his hips with all the strength he can manage, pleasure jolts up Bucky’s body, lava through his veins to his head that’s been pushed higher than the earth’s atmosphere. His knot expands to the throb of his thundering heart rate and forcing hungry sounds out of the brunette with the amount of space required inside him to fit his mate’s knot. 

“Yeah- gonna fuck you full.” Steve lowers his voice to a gravelly whisper that melts all of Bucky, “Gonna fuck you so full you’re squealing with it, hurting a little and still begging for more.” 

Steve’s voice isn’t even done with his filth but Bucky’s there all of the sudden, floating in the soup of his melted brain and whimpering and whining on his perfect cock. His dick painting their sheets and his stomach, the scent of his arousal washing over his alpha and narrowing his focus even more. His growls, groans, and gutted moans spurring Bucky on. 

The hot, tight clench of him soaring through the alpha and into Bucky, forcing him over into what feels like a second orgasm and, boy, does it really have him squealing the same way he was promised. His teeth aching in his jaw and his eyes shutting tight as they can, waves crashing over his head and pulling him further under. 

He feels Steve pull him around like a ragdoll but doesn’t open his eyes- he can’t be bothered. Not when he knows his alpha will take care of him, taking care to not pull his cock out of him but instead to slowly turn him, causing the slight curve to his cock to collide with his sweet spot once more. Bucky’s lips fall open with a soft moan, his muscles fluttering around him, his entrance leaking more slick onto himself and Steve. Still falling through the gold, glitzy shower of his post orgasm brain he sighs in thanks, not being able to do much else currently. T

However, the need to be knotted is slowly heating up to a boil yet again in the back of his mind, his back burner having more attention on it that his brain isn’t swimming through molasses thick pleasure. Just focusing on the livewire that is his alpha and his needs that have yet to be met. 

“Not gonna break,” Bucky breathes out, rolling his head to the side like the fact that his scent gland is still clear of an actual bite (not including the numerous hickeys) will convince him of that. Then tumbling out of his kiss and bite swollen lips comes, “would let you though- would let you stuff me so full of cum, so close to being bred up that I’m-” Steve beats him to his next words, replacing them with a filthy kiss, “mmmh,” he gasps hungrily into his alpha’s mouth. His little dick, not soft and Bucky’s not sure if it ever did or not, twitching against his stomach in pleasure. 

Steve pulls back, lifting his legs and dropping them around his waist the second he’s sure that’s where they will land, eager to return to plowing him. Bucky can feel how bad his urge to rut is so he flops his head back even more, submitting visually and opening his mouth back up. His hazy post-orgasm brain decides he’s got to talk his alpha to his knot. 

“Want you to breed me. Fill me up. Gonna want it all the time then-” he giggles a little, whether it’s from Steve’s shocked and purely aroused face or from his own antics he’ll never be sure but it’s enjoyable anyway. “Then when I’m already bred up, full with you,” he knocks his hips forward, a gasp tumbling out of him, “So- so full and I’m gonna need you. Y’know, y’know pregnant omega’s first and most… most promm-prominent symptom is being horny?” 

Steve snarls and brings up one of his legs, kissing and biting at his skin while pistoning his hips in and out of his drooling cunt. 

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees with a moan, feeling more and more of Steve’s pleasure that also might be his own- he can’t be sure, he’s taking a pitiful attempt to plan his words and it’s difficult, okay? You try being starved for cock, for a knot, and trying to come up with words that aren’t hysterical fits for /more/. More stuffed into you. More pleasure. More cum. More of his alpha. More, more, moremoremoremore. 

“Yeah” he tries again, “ ‘m gonna be so full a’ you that you’re gonna haveta stay home and help me do everything,” he whimpers, sinking into the image he’s painting for his alpha. “Help me do everything ‘cause ‘m too big. And you’re gonna haveta fuck me- make love to me. All the time.”

“Gonna be like you’re in heat all the time, huh?” Steve speaks, no- growls into his skin. Low voice vibrating across the surface of his skin until it feels like he’s speaking into Bucky’s soul. Branding him with the bite and truth behind his words. 

Bucky’s legs somehow end up over those massive shoulders making him keen with the sudden change in angle, the sudden there-ness of the near full knot blown at the base of his alpha’s cock. His voice is too garbled to do anything but make his lips fall wide open and shine with spit, Steve seems content to keep it up-

“Yeah-” he leans over Bucky, imposing and dominating, nosing his sweat-soaked cheekbone. Groaning into his skin, “gonna haveta do something with you aren’t I? Then- with you so fuckin’ stuffed. Maybe tie you up like you said, said earlier. Tie you up so I make sure you can’t do anything but get what you need- getting filled over and over and over-” He seems so content to continue in his ramblings until literally one second later when he’s grunting and gasping, his hips stopping their rocking and just shoving up into him.

Bucky sobs, his tears returning full force and his thighs practically putting his alpha in a headlock, the pop of his full knot pushing into him and finding its way beyond his rim, catching him off guard completely. He wails hungrily. Steve’s dirty ramblings have completely cut off by that point- just puffs of air and half growls leaking from his mouth where it’s stationed over Bucky’s. Breathing in each other's air and feeding off of each other's pleasure. 

Already crying and gasping Bucky loses all of his leftover breath and the remainder of his tears to the feeling of Steve fucking exploding inside him. His knot pushing his cunt to expand so his cum can flood through his channel, fucking him full just like he desperately wanted. His muscles fall utterly limp everywhere beyond his cunt, paralyzing him to his alpha’s mercy.

Steve buries his face in Bucky’s neck like he can’t take his own pleasure anymore, his wet panting falling over his scent gland deliciously, shivers racing down his body at the feeling. So close yet so far from being bitten and claimed- though he certainly is being held down. Bucky whimpers and tosses his head to the other side without realizing what he’s doing, simply obeying the commands that control his hindbrain. Heat pouring over his brain like molten melt and solidifying the need to be bred. 

Bucky cums with one of the hot pulses of Steve’s prolonged orgasm, his head reeling and flying high, the pressure of his cum flooding into his cunt and possibly his very womb pushing him over the edge for whatever-fucking-number it is this time. He screams silently with it, not even sure his brain is able to fully register how fucking /good/ it is, Steve’s name on the very tip of his tongue and threatening for the whole neighbourhood knowing who his alpha is- had there been air in his lungs. 

Halfway through the near painful, gutting waves of pleasure wrecking him thoroughly and Bucky’s gasping, embarrassment flashes through him at an intensity that’s impressively comparative to the soul-encompassing feeling of his orgasm. It isn’t enough to spoil his orgasm but it does cool it off faster- the lake surface of his heat relaxes from waves to ripples. It lights him up with a full body blush, his pants turning to wide eyed gasps. 

The omega squirms in discomfort- or as much as he can while still in the throws of cumming. It certainly looks more just like thrashing from the overwhelming white, damn near blue, heat of pleasure racing over his skin and insides.

Steve notices it, but his reaction is the opposite, he doesn’t look confused or affected by second-hand embarrassment, if it even is the same thing he’s reacting to, Bucky isn’t sure. He’s sort of busy, trying to not let his skull swallow his eyes and not scream when Steve’s hips pulse more. His cock seemingly done emptying but his hips not yet done moving with his rut. His face is the darkest Bucky’s had the pleasure of seeing. His eyes ravenous and completely lust dark and his knot pulsing /deep/ in him like he’s going to double knot him again. 

Bucky whimpers weakly at him, subconsciously searching for pity in his alpha for what he thinks he’s done wrong. 

A feral snarl echoes around them as Steve continues to stare into his fucking soul, “ ‘mega,” his voice is barely audible as his lips come close to devouring him, it thickly wraps around Bucky’s concerned frame, honey-like with the way it drips over him. His alpha realizes slowly, noting his omega reaction and disapproving of it. Biting dangerously close to his marking scent gland and dangerously hard, laving the hurt away and speaking in more of a growl than real words, “jus’ made you squirt,” he nearly purrs at his omega who’s fighting the heady pulses of pleasure overtaking him and emanating out from his scent gland, moaning breathily. 

The words hit him after a delay and Bucky relaxes because /holy shit/ did it feel good but… but also like he pissed himself in front of his alpha because he was knotted so hard. 

Steve must be able to hear his horrified thoughts through their bond because he cuddles the smaller man closer to him, snorting into his neck where his head is dipped at a strange angle so he can fit himself there, “dummy,” he says affectionately. Bucky’s throat decides he needs to purr then. So he does, giggling a little to himself at the same time. 

The head of blonde hair is then lifted out of his atmosphere, ocean blue eyes coming into the space between them, his features adoring Bucky’s. Eyes darting all around his face, mapping it out like he’s memorizing his face. He kisses him then. Soft and sweet and doesn’t hesitate to breathe out, “I love you.” Nuzzling his nose against the sweaty locks of brown splayed out around his head in a wonderfully pretty halo, and he doesn't say it aloud but he thinks it loud enough for them both to hear. /Love your purr. Your laugh too./

Bucky purrs louder, “I love you too and I can’t believe you just made me-” he cuts himself off with more humming giggles. 

Steve grins proudly, “yeah. You feel good now, Buck? Well, better, I guess?” 

He nods reverently because, yeah, he does- he can feel the undercurrent that’s still present and always is during his cycle but it’s soothed for now. He sighs, inhaling and kicking up a deeper purr when he can smell the satisfaction on his mate. The brunette licks his lips, staring at Steve and chuckling a little in prep of what he’s going to ask, “how do you not seem to know anything about what it’s like to be with an omega but you know what how to make me squirt? Hell- how did you know what that was so fast?” 

Steve blushes, his entire face pinking the way Bucky feels like his probably is as well, his full knot rippling in his cunt. Bucky’s gut clenches and he chokes on his breath, sputtering when his hips pulse forward again. He shakes his head, “I- I haven’t been with an omega ever but, uhm,” Bucky nods, he knew that which is why he’s confused but he doesn’t interrupt, “a whole lot of first responders are way too comfortable with each other. I- uhm, I overheard a conversation once. The guys long gone now…” Steve voices trails off and for a second Bucky thinks that maybe he died but then Steve’s chuckling and adding, “he was a complete ass, thought he knew everything and put other people in danger because of it. He, err, he was talking to one of the EMTs we had on scene and telling them about how he took this omega home from a bar or something and that the ‘poor girl’ ” he applies air quotes lazily and continues looking a little disgusted at the memory it seems. Bucky’s heart swells- such a good, respectful alpha he’s got. “Like pissed on him when she orgasmed and- and then the EMT laughed and told him to go look up squirting…” 

“And so you did too, I’m guessing?” 

Steve nods, “but let’s not talk about work when,” he wiggles his eyebrows, “I can show you something else that that research provided me with.” 

“Yes alpha,” Bucky smirks at him, fluttering his lashes and looking up at him, said alpha growls and nips his lip. Bucky’s skin sings, shivers from their electric connection chasing the heat that flashes through him. 

His alpha is able to flip them over scarily easily, making it so he’s on the bottom- back to the bed -and the younger man is atop him and able to sit in his lap after some careful maneuvering. Bucky wiggles in his lap when he’s comfortable, an unsuspecting gasp spilling out of him when it makes Steve’s knot pull sweetly on his rim. Oh. Oh, fuck, that feels so good. 

His toes curl into their messy sheets, his jaw clenching then falling open with another sound when Steve’s big hands cup his hips and rock his hips back and forth. Tiny circles on his knot, his gut happily clenches and cramps around his cock. The slick that was able to escape and make him squirt dribbling down from his entrance and landing hot on his alpha skin- making even more of a mess on him. 

“What’sss, aH! What’s this c-called then?” Bucky attempts to ask, his voice breaking and hitching in different places with the consistent moves Steve is leading his body to do. 

“I haven’t got the slightest clue,” Steve pants out, biceps and pecs bunching and releasing with the workout that is moving his omega, a full grown man, around without him having to do anything. Pleasant sparkles find their way down Bucky’s spine at the sight, his mouth waters. He grunts, starting to pulse his own hips up and down, gently tugging at his rim and slipping the tiniest bit farther into his entrance, “feels, fuck, feels good though doesn’t it?” 

“God- yessss.” He hisses, getting with the program and circling his hips in tight figure eights. Panting with the pressure it’s putting on his insides, stirring the mass amount of cum that’s filling him up and pressing onto his sweet spot every so often. Not enough to be overwhelming but still enough to fatten up his dick. 

Steve notices, taking a hand off of his hip and quickly patting it- reminding him to keep up with the rhythm -his hand just brushes the tip of his dick sparingly. Enough to make tears come to his omega’s wide, grey-blue, red-rimmed eyes. He’s shivering, his alpha’s light touching make him feel even more sensitive, whimpering with the sensation, almost like there’s ice being rubbed all over his dick. 

Steve lets go of him with his other hand, letting Bucky fully control the pace and grips his ass harshly. Letting out his own pleased hiss when he feels the heat radiating from the abused skin of his ass. Bucky jolts- he hole clenching like a vice on his knot, locking around him and whining. 

“Harder,” he whispers, shy. 

Steve looks him in the eye and so Bucky looks right back- he means what he said. He just doesn’t know if he knows what he really wants- if he’s going to-

Bucky’s world explodes. Or maybe just he does. His hands reach out and his balance is ripped from himself with the sudden impact and squeezing at the firm muscle and smooth skin of their landing place. Steve’s hand stays on his ass, groping at the skin he just smacked and groaning like he’s been shot with the strength of Bucky’s grip on his pecs. 

Bucky smiles, giddy and shockingly close to orgasm yet again, “ple-please!” He begs, wanting to feel the sharp heat and rush of endorphins again, whimpering and clenching, swiveling his hips on Steve’s cock to show his appreciation. Steve does hit him again. Twice in a row. Cupping the searing flesh afterwards, his massive palms grabbing handfuls of Bucky’s ass. 

The fourth hit is what does him in, nailing the last nail into his coffin. Smacking right over the first marks, coming down hard-

Bucky keens, whimpers, and probably moans. His ears ringing and his vision whiting out, his cunt hungrily milking Steve’s knot as if it hasn’t already popped. Tears drip off of his jaw and onto his own thighs and probably onto Steve, maybe dripping down his neck as his body demands him to arch his back and neck. 

Ripples and waves and tsunamis wrecking through his flesh, turning him into broken bits of wood and metal and fabric- a shipwreck under the all encompassing ocean that is Steve Rogers. 

And beyond his own close horizon he feels Steve seize up under him, he feels his pleasure crash into him. His surface is spit and crashed through by Bucky’s ship, an orgasm hitting him right in the gut. Cumming dry and hot inside Bucky, no more cum rushing into his cunt but Bucky doesn’t care, he feeds off of the second-hand pleasure. 

Dry fireworks ignite his matchstick forest until everything is black and blank and nothing- gone. 

The last feeling being free falling as his body collapses in on itself, curling in and wilting until he’s on Steve’s chest, the skin surrounding where they’re connected tingling and zinging. A symphony and choir to sing Bucky off into the nothingness that is his post orgasm haze, well deserved after however many times he just came immediately after waking up.


	15. XV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The peak of Bucky's heat hits and Steve and him deal with it in an interesting way.
> 
> Also the conclusion of their story.

The days of synchronized cycles blur together into a kaleidoscope of sweat, slick, and cum. Rarely they’re able to have more than two hours without going at it like animals, Bucky’s heat needing to be satiated much more often then Steve’s rut which makes their peaks hit them both at the same time sometimes and other times one will set the other off. Like how that evening- that closes out the first of five or six days of his cycle -Steve’s rut urge is satisfied by knotting Bucky literally on the kitchen floor (he’d put up a bit of a fight about being knotted over the counter) and then twenty minutes into being locked together while leaning against the cabinets, trying to decide if it’s worth trying to get to the couch or bed Bucky’s heat peeks.

Making him whine and whimper on Steve’s cock, his hindbrain both overjoyed with already having a knot inside him, keeping him full, but also throwing a tantrum about not being able to be plowed into. Begging and pleading Steve to fuck him and being unable to stop until the alpha’s knot had returned to a normal enough size to cause only minimal pain when thrusting in and out of him. 

Bucky had screamed for his alpha then. 

The times when their cycles both peak at the same time are more fun. And more messy… but that’s beyond the point. It’s certainly better for them both to wake up from a lazy nap to whine and groan at one another, tearing into each other like starved men presented with the finest desserts. When that happens Steve ends up staving off his knot until Bucky’s cum at least twice because as fun as it is to have the lithe omega squirm on his cock he does worry, once he’s come back down from his ‘knot-brain’, wondering if he’s actually going to do damage to his internal muscles or to his rim. He persuades Bucky to keep his stuffed full, locked together, wiggling orgasms to one every other round. 

Bucky doesn’t not pout or try to slyly put the offer out there that he knows he can pull dry orgasms out of Steve while doing it and- hey, doesn’t that feel really good for you? Steve does agree that it does feel good, ‘cause he’s insanely right, but he can’t get over his worries. Bucky empathizes with him in the end. 

When they reach a point where Steve’s rut begins to match up to the waves of Bucky’s heat entirely, not where he still is only hitting his peaks in rut every three hours (which was shaved down already- from three and a half hours) to match with Bucky’s peak every two out of three times but rather his peaks start to hit with Bucky. Every two hours, give or take. 

It makes Bucky’s hindbrain purr and subsequently he ends up purring so much he’s convinced he’s going to be hoarse after this week. He’s going to smell of Steve for the rest of his /life/ with the way they’re all over each other like this but that’s not impactful for his ability to work so he doesn’t care. Besides he does happen to like the way Steve smells. 

Although as perfect and discombobulated as their bodies seem to be when following the observable pattern of their syncing cycles it only makes sense when that balance is put off. Bucky knows to expect it and has been telling Steve to as well since they’ve been discussing sharing their cycles with one another but the way it falls on Steve’s part is a shock. His rut has faded nearly completely by the time the middle of Bucky’s heat hits. The most active, if you will, part of his heat. 

The direct inbetween of his body ramping up to go for heat and the falling of his body's ability to sustain the increased production of slick and hormones in general. The times that he’ll barely be able to remember beyond a hazy curtain of pleasure if he’s with a partner or needy pain if he’s spending his time in season alone. And he’s been perfectly fine before on his own and with heat partners before without anyone having been in season with him (except those two times with one of his omega partners where they were both in heat but… that’s different) but Steve’s concern has him worrying. 

Pointing out how the one of the first things Bucky said to him when he realized he had been in heat, and been half-asleep, was that this cycle was different. More intense. “Worse”, to directly quote himself. 

He’s so sweetly concerned that he runs over to Bucky’s apartment to pick up his box of toys, the ones that weren’t deemed “necessary” which constitutes most of them seeing as they had yet to get bored of just using what nature had given them. Not exploring exactly, but just enjoying. In the honeymoon phase maybe- if there can be a honeymoon phase with the sex in a realtionship, Bucky’s not sure but it does sound plausable. The only ones Bucky has in Steve’s apartment- really just their entirely shared space now, their place more like -are two primarily dildos and one vibrator that can expand out to have a synthetic knot but that can be used without it too. The dildos are from the same set, a two pack with a larger and smaller size, both very pretty shades of light blue, meant for the expected body a woman would have but that works fantastically with Bucky’s body so long as they don’t have the ‘bunny ears’ that are meant to stimulate a clit. Bucky is aware male omegas like himself have small dicks but even with his nontypical anatomy his dick isn’t /that/ small. 

Though… when picturing the way his dick looks in Steve’s hands, uhm, well- a blush then stains his cheeks because in that scenario it really does look like it might be. Especially with his hulking alpha whispering in his ear about how tiny his little omega is. 

Even the bigger of the two dildos isn’t near Steve’s size, just a good heafy size. The smaller vibrates a little, just having two functions; a high and low. According to the little information paragraph that had been on the side of the box it had pointed fun on how people with smaller cock or dicks tend to be better with penetration seeing as they have to overcome expectations and those with larger tend to assume their size will please their partner. Bucky had snickered at it at the time, figuring it to be true because of his experiences at the time. Now though- now he would fight that tooth and nail, holding up Steve as the ultimate contradiction to that “rule”. 

The vibrator is lavender purple because, hey, it was too pretty to resist buying it in that color when the other option was black or firetruck red and- oh, you know, he’s now kind of thinking about how he wishes he had the forethought to buy something in that color. Knowing he could have a hell of a lot of fun with teasing a certain someone with a title like that. 

The someone who’s going to leaving the apartment to journey to Bucky’s apartment and back shortly, indenting on finding more of his treasured sex toys to return with so that Bucky can be as comfortable as possible while in heat without his alpha in rut. The sentiment of it kind of makes him want to write Steve a lengthy, handwritten thank you letter on expensive paper. No one has ever done anything like this for him before. 

Bucky’s cheeks stain like a white carpet splashed with red wine, he knows what Steve will find, and even knowing he thought he literally pissed himself in front of his alpha while they were mating he still feels a bit shy about this. Someone’s long forgotten, dumb advise about “keeping the mystery” flowing to the forefront of his hazy head. A hazy mindset that Bucky’s kept on his side of the bond because he knows he’s due to hit the overall peak of his heat soon but that if Steve doesn’t leave now he’ll never get the opportunity to. Bucky will be keeping him busy. 

He inhales and exhales deeply. Recounting the days to be sure he’s not just paranoid. If he noticed that he went into heat two days ago that means that, assuming Steve’s rut masked his pre-heat symptoms, that he’s in his fourth day of heat. And if his peak is hitting him now then this heat will be six days in total with a peak that’s stretched over roughly two days and only stalling during the night (or whenever his body decides he definitely needs a break). Two days of being fucked senseless. Two days of not knowing anything but Steve’s name and title as his alpha. Two days of being driven out of his own mind with lust.

…And Steve plans to use his own toy collection on him. 

Well, certainly not all of his toy collection because, Bucky shudders, that would be too much, too much on a regular day and certainly too much when he’s in heat. He owns too many toys for that. Toys which he started getting because of his ex-Dom, Bucky had met her in his first semester of college and so they had had a thing then a relationship on and off where he was also allowed to hook up with other people, who was also an omega and wanted him to have stuff at his place that would make sessions more… interesting. Some of the toys she had asked him to buy they hadn’t used while others were used basically every time they had sex. The ones she hadn’t used on him had become the stars of the show once they had their mutual break up but now- sex toy are sex toys and are meant to be used. Regardless of who told you to buy them. 

Casual hook ups and a few other short winded relationships had lasted him through college and the year of residency he took but beyond that he’d been busy. Busy enough to go through the hassle of buying more toys, including ones specifically for working his way solo through his heats, rather than the hassle of finding other people. 

Still- thinking about how and why he has a /collection/ of toys doesn’t take his mind off the fact that Steve’s ready and very willing to use those items on him.

It’s blowing his mind a little, not because he thinks his alpha is prude or something like that, no, it’s just that he knows he doesn’t have much experience with sex in general. His experience with relationships surpasses Bucky’s so much that he probably has him lapped but not all of his relationships involved heavy sex, which is completely fine, and none of his relationships have involved omegas so… he just- 

But, no, maybe that’s it. 

Maybe he wants to be prepared for anything the peak of Bucky’s heat has to throw at him and because he’s not in rut anymore he’s not sure he’ll be able to provide. And Bucky agreed. 

The brunette swallows, flopping back onto the newly cleaned bed, already beginning to sweat as he hears Steve shout from the entry way- he’s taking off now. Suggesting that he sleep while he’s away, Bucky can hear the nonverbal inuendo following his words- /’cause you won’t be getting much sleep when I’m back./ 

It makes him feel a little better, more that if he really is worried about not being able to please his omega it’s not as bad as Bucky’s head is building it up to be. Besides Bucky thinks with one hundred percent certainty that they would be just fine without the toys- Steve’s creative, he’d find a way, and besides it’s not that hard to please him. He chuckles at himself, his dick perking up in his sweatpants- tenting them obscenely because of his lack of underwear -Steve could blow over his chest and he’s certain that with his heat at it’s full height he would moan and beg for him to do it again and again and again. No questions asked. 

Bucky hears keys outside the door and is immediately moving, not even thinking of the possibility of it being a neighbour or someone passing by and fiddling with their keys. No. His brain is entirely convinced it’s Steve. 

It has to be. 

If it’s not he might die. He’s not sure what he’ll be dying of but something’s gonna end up being fatal if he’s gotta wait another fifteen or twenty or however too long Steve’s been gone. He’s been sweating the entire time but hasn’t taken off his sweats, he has yet to realistically think of it, he’s been picturing Steve’s cock. The way it looked that first time in the shower when he discovered he couldn’t and wouldn’t ever be able to fit the whole thing at once in his mouth. When his mate had scruffed him and he’d immediately clenched up and whimpered internally while battling the urge to cum again right then and there. 

Bucky’s vertical. His guts clench and swim a little, sparkles of white and black and indescribable colors clouding his vision with the suddenness of his change, the bed calling back to him. He whines back at it. 

Steve. He needs Steve. 

So the brunette who’s been lowered to his baser instincts takes a step, swallowing his whimper of despair at the itchy pain that shoots up from his very center, he brings his feet back together and tightens his legs together. Panting when he feels how /wet/ he already is. 

His stumbling, horrible steps take him to the entryway before his quivering legs demand that he end up on the floor. He obeys the muscles, moaning when the door cracks open and he smells Steve, his legs a puddle beneath him. His scent is spiked with the outside world from his journey and not just Bucky anymore, he whimpers loudly from his place on the floor. The world around him fuzzy with his desperation. 

“Oh, Buck!” He sounds significantly alarmed and, nonono, Bucky can’t have that. He scoots, well, crawls forward. Trying to get closer to the door without actually having to walk ‘cause walking doesn’t feel good. It makes the space between his legs ache with need, makes his stomach grumble and hurt, makes his sweat roll down his body like the excess of slick he’s making, and makes his head throb. But he wants- he needs Steve more than he needs the comfort of the absence of those things. 

So he tries to get to his feet, whimpering the whole way but he barely can hear himself with the absolute drumming of his heart in his ears and chest. A thud that’s beyond himself echoes through his ears- he startles, falling back on his ass with an unhappy noise, some tears gathering in his mostly shut eyes, while the loud one still rings painfully in his sensitive ears. 

“Oh- oh baby, no,” Steve croons, his voice closer, “don’t cry, ‘mega. Don’t cry. I’m sorry, ‘m right here.” 

And he is. He is right there, Bucky can feel his heat seeping into Bucky’s skin despite the fact that he’s pretty sure they’re not touching each other. His eyes flick open after a few tears leak from them, a tiny mewl making itself heard between them. He sees Steve’s face for maybe half of a second before he’s being pulled into that massive chest, his wide shoulders curling around Bucky’s smaller form and cradling him. His hands sweeping up and down and across his back, lulling him down from the ledge of emotion that he had been climbing. 

It makes sparks of gold and pink and some silver dance across his brain, his instincts turning down just a level or two at being touched by his alpha, he moans his thanks breathily into Steve’s neck. Not quite ready for words but wanting to, to… to do something?

He squirms a little, trying to-

Oh, oh. He, yes, he’s hit his peak and he hopes Steve knows it. Because he can already feel himself sinking back down into it. 

Steve speaks, hushing words into the bird’s nest that is Bucky’s hair probably, “you think this is it?” He pauses either really believing that the squirming mess of omega in his lap will respond verbally or waiting for some kind of cue from the bond link they share. He hums, apparently getting what the hell ever he wanted, “yeah, how long do you think it’s been this bad, little ‘mega?” 

Bucky keens, he feels little, wants to- wants to feel little with Steve, never with anyone else, just, just… Question. He reminds himself, only a bit scolding to his own self. Question. He tries to breathe deeply, he needs adequate air to speak. He opens his mouth. Closes it. Does it again and again and-

Steve growls at him, “stop. You’re okay, ‘mega. Buck. My pretty little mate. You’re okay.” 

He keens into his skin, the sound changing to one of self pity when he realizes he’s crying again. His hands ache from being fisted in Steve’s shirt for so long, his entrance is screaming at him just as the rest of his body, his dick and hole are the most pressing though. 

One of Steve’s hands tug at the front part of his waistband, his sweatpants undeniably ruined, and then his hand is pressing right up against Bucky. He sobs into Steve’s chest, little pathetic noises coming out with every hitched breath. God. He spreads his legs more, dropping his body more and making an embarrassingly garbled sound when he forces Steve to press against him harder- the pressure heavenly. 

Steve groans into the top of his head, pleased with the ocean of slick he’s feeling. Bucky doesn’t have it in his mind to preen at the reaction his alpha has to him, he just cries harder, feeling Steve’s rough hands circle around his cunt. He rocks back and forth, realizing Steve’s checking how slick he is to get a grasp on how long he’s been feeling his heat like this- it’s almost clinical and it shouldn’t feel so good but there’s naughty feelings crawling up his spine and seeping into his brain. He loves this. Loves- loves, loves…

He wails into Steve’s neck, panting holty right over Steve’s scent gland, his mouth wide open with the flames that are licking up his body with the finger that’s entering him. He presses all his weight into Steve’s crouched body, gleeful hormones joining the party when he doesn’t even sway, he’s like a brick wall. An anchor for Bucky to depend on like a life preserver. 

“That’s it,” Steve coaxes, “you jus’ need something in this achy little cunt, don’t you?” He hushes to him, curling his fingers forward and drawing choked sounds from the smaller man’s throat. Bucky wants to- to do something, to crawl out of his own skin maybe. Everything feels so /good/. Although at the same time nothing is enough. Steve’s finger, now fully inside him up to the third knuckle, feels like ice to a burn but it’s only one burn on his body. He’s got others and he desperately needs them to be treated too.

He feels like his insides are being blended up and melted at the same time, hell, maybe they’re even lit up too. His skin is sensitive and pricking at everything- even the sweats he put on because they’re unearthly soft now they feel like they’re full of thorns wherever they brush his legs or ass or anything. Making little helpless breaths of noises fall out of him. Yet he can’t hear anything as if he’s submerged in water but also he feels as if he can hear every tiny noise, every hitch and waver in Steve’s voice that’s vibrating across his skin and making shivers migrate further and further south. His dick is aching and throbbing, begging to be touched almost as much as his cunt is begging to be fucked full. 

He doesn’t know what the hell to do or to pay attention to so he grabs harder at Steve, pulling his shoulders closer with all his might and sobbing, open mouthed, into him. Wetting his shirt with both tears and drool and possibly some snot too. 

His brain circling the same words in an infinite carousel, /alpha, breed, heat, hot, alpha, alpha, alpha, knot, knot, bite. Claim me, bite, bite. Alpha, alpha, need knot, knot me, knotknotknotknot. Please./ 

Steve puts another finger in him- he moans uselessly at the electrified chills that over take him, squirming and trying to get more already. Steve kisses his temple once he’s tilted Bucky’s head back far enough to reach, murmuring softly into his skin and pumping and spreading his fingers apart. All but cooing at him to try and keep him calm. 

His mouth drops open, a shocked, hot sound falling from his lips seemingly without reason until- oh. Oh, dear god- fuck! 

Steve has pushed two additional fingers into him, his entire fist nearly inside Bucky, his four fingers splitting him apart in a way two didn’t- not with his heat cycling through his system. Normally, two fingers is enough to make him feel full. Lightning sparks and flares under his skin which slowly is beginning to refit to Bucky’s frame the more Steve touches him- the more he shoves inside of him. 

Bucky looks up blearily, knowing his face would be increasing in heat if he wasn’t already fully red at the way his words tumble out of his mouth. Desperate and slurred, “Sssstt- need, need-” 

“Shhh, ‘mega, you’re okay. I’ve got you now.” Steve quells him petting back his hair from his eyes and face in general, his other hand slowly pulling out of him and pushing back in before his fingers can even get halfway out, their folded formation making for a surprisingly good substitute for his alpha’s shaft. Just thinner than normal but it helps knowing that it is Steve and not some toy. 

Bucky’s brain solidifies a little more while they sit there in the entryway, not fully back to his normal state but better. A very liquidy slushy rather than a pool of sugar dissolved in water with food coloring. Steve keeps stretching and thrusting his fingers throughout the experience, keeping Bucky still when he starts getting too anxious and moving while keeping him packed for the time being. 

He doesn’t figure out why Steve’s keeping them there until he whispers carefully into his sweaty hair, “you think you’re okay to get up and move to the bed without crying? Or should I try and find something in here-” he pats the bag he took to Bucky’s old place; a bag that is certainly filled with sex toys from his short mission. 

Bucky shakes his head, agreeing hopefully, feeling sweat roll down his bare back, he whimpers and clamps his lips shut. Nodding again to be sure Steve knows. He opens his eyes, they had been trained on the floor and- when did he close them?

He realizes the gravity of the situation when Steve pulls his fingers slowly out of his cunt, clearly giving him time to take back the agreement with his pace but Bucky clenches his jaw determined to not make Steve knot him where anyone passing by in the hall could hear. They both have quite the possessive streak as it turns out. His internal muscles don’t follow the broken tracks behind his train of thoughts, they clench down with a vengeance. Intending on pulling Steve right back inside of himself and accidentally setting off another round of cramps. 

He whines regardless of his shut lips and locked jaw, the noise escaping through his nose, the sound pitiful and heart-wrenching for his alpha. His stomach trembling with the returning pain of not having his mate, or anything at all, inside of him. His hole aches even worse the second time he’s left alone. Making him want to collapse back onto the floor and demand to get Steve in him /now/.

He doesn’t though. He can do it. This. He can. He will. 

He whimpers as he attempts to stand, finding all of his muscles trembling alongside his cramping guts, his thighs aching like they too are begging to get fucked right alone with his cunt. His head going fuzzy with the new stance, throwing his body into a soft sway until Steve’s arms curl around him again. Encircling him and ensuring he won’t fall- even so, he feels like a might. He might faint from the lightheadedness or from the dehydration he’s probably facing judging by where he can feel his fully soaked sweats against his body. He might keel over at any point for any reason- 

“ ‘Mega, wait-” 

Bucky wasn’t going anywhere anyway but his swimming, puddle-like, brain is too confused to do anything in response. He mewls when Steve’s arms are taken away, his lower body temperature leaving as well and making his breath come out in heaves, the flames of his heat coming on with harsh reprisal. He sways forward again, lip trembling when more wet fabric scraps over his sensitive skin. 

“I know, I know.” Steve quiets him, sparing one arm to hold his omega up and using the other to drag his sodden sweats off of him. They drop to the floor with a surprisingly heavy thunk, more of his slick having been mopped up by them than he thought, Bucky laps his shoulder in a primal response, purring choppily into the blonde’s shirt, snagging the material in his mouth and pulling softly. 

“Want- want,” he sobs a little, upset with his inability to speak and string any form of thoughts together, “m’ naked and you- you need…” 

Steve’s hands skim his ass reverently, growling deep in his chest as Bucky feels his now entirely naked body come together with his alpha’s much bigger, much more clothed one. He wails at the contact. Nerves he didn’t know he had- or at least ones he hadn’t registered before -lighting up and filling his overflowing cup with more need. A bucket of water being poured onto an already overflowing cup. 

He moves against Steve, shedding literal tears at the too much, too there-ness of his clothes on his delicate skin. God. He chokes on his own tongue, the muscle feeling swollen in his dried mouth. 

“C’mon,” Steve offers affectionately, grunting vaguely as he lifts Bucky bridal style, heaving an arm under his back and thighs before pulling him close. Bucky squeals the movement jostling his legs and making them push together against the swollen, soaked flesh between his legs. His dick smacking on his stomach and flicking pre-cum up to his sternum. His hands balled into fists with the need to claw at something- anything. 

The only thing stopping him from begging Steve to throw him down and take him right there on the ground, to whimper helplessly until he’s full of his alpha’s cum and locked to him by his knot, to plead for his cum, his praise, his attention, his voice is the fact that he can’t do much of anything but make garbled, choked noises that sound nothing like words. He curls in tighter to his alpha, his dick twitching when the head of his alpha’s cock brushes his ass, perked up and leaking onto his skin. Bucky even wants to weep at that. 

His heat sinks its teeth back into his mind completely by the time Steve’s placing him down on the bed, his back making contact with the cool sheets- he hisses, the relief of the cold only lasting a second before his feverish heat pollutes them. He whines sharply, sounding completely weak to even himself with tears falling from him at the frustration of being on his back and not his front. The blonde notices and starts to lunge in closer, chasing his omega’s comfort, but before he can reach Bucky with his soothing grip he’s flipping onto his front. Surprisingly agile considering how he couldn’t stand minutes ago. 

He pushes his hips up, situating his knees under himself without thinking about it, biting his lip with the uncomfortable pull of his heat tightened muscles in the position that somehow feels good when he’s like this. This sensitive. 

He doesn’t realize that presenting when Steve’s that close to him, sitting on the bed with him just staggered backwards by maybe a foot or so, his ass goes up in the air making it sit inches from his face. From his mouth. He is able to recognize it though when he feels the fan of his jagged breaths on his skin. 

Rather than yelping and shutting his legs with embarrassment as he usually would Bucky’s heat whispers that he needs to spread his legs more. Make himself more irresistible. 

When he does that, muscles squirming under his skin as he does, Steve howls. Growling straight away after with such a ferocity that it /has/ to hurt his throat. His hands traveling up the insides of his thighs and finding the source of the rivers of slick on his flesh and the dominating, powerful noises emanating from the bigger man has him collapsing from his forearms down to just his upper chest and face resting on the bed. His face buried in the sheets and his hands, his hair splayed out around him.

He moans into the bed, his own vocal cords screaming at him for it, shaking and unprepared entirely for the pure pleasure that drowns him when Steve turns himself around and scoots up under his omega’s body and pulls his hips down onto his face in what seems like one choreographed movement. All of the hairs on Bucky’s body stand on end, shivers racing over his scalp, ragged noises being punched out of his gut when Steve attacks his folds and entrance with his tongue and fingers. Holding him open and down so he can’t get away from the pleasure. 

Bucky goes boneless. Not caring for a second that his dick is resting on Steve’s forehead and hair or that this is probably the strangest position he’s ever been eaten out in and just entirely focusing on the desperation coursing through his veins- stronger than any drug he’s had described to him over his time in the medical field. 

Steve repositions the hand and arm that’s keeping Bucky’s most intimate areas to his face, more specifically is mouth. Feeling his arm bracket his lower back and his hand get a handful of his ass- groaning with the owned feeling that creeps up his spine to his brain at the hold. Not even remembering how he might squirm if he even wanted to. 

Whimpering when Steve strokes his entrance, circling his hole teasingly, and tongues the base of his dick. Bucky’s going to die. 

His heart is going to stop from pure shock and over-excursion, he’s going to die right here. Death from the sinful skills Steve has acquired with his lips and tongue, painting Bucky’s body with more slick and more goosebumps, pleasure pulsing through his veins. He whimpers and whines, muscles not doing anything to help his reeling mind- not rocking down onto his mouth the way he wants them to, just sitting still and quivering. 

Mindless with pleasure. Feeling his stomach fill with fire as Steve licks him around his own finger, giving Bucky just a taste of what he needs, he mewls with want. He wants more. More of Steve’s mouth. More of his fingers. More. More. Moremoremoremore. 

Bucky doesn’t realize his thoughts are spilling out of his mouth until Steve nips playfully at the highest inside point of his thigh and presses two more fingers into him at once. The others join the first and suddenly Bucky’s got three of his alpha’s thick fingers in his cunt and he’s relearned how to squirm. Panting and moaning breathlessly with the pleasure rocking him, squirming on his fingers and chasing more of his tongue. 

Then Steve’s sucking messy kisses on the base of his dick and he’s reminded of how it looks when the much larger man palms his dick, how tiny it makes him look, how tiny it makes him feel. Wailing when Steve uses more of his strength to press Bucky’s restless hips fully to his face again. Pulsing his fingers in and out roughly while curling them, pulling his fingertips across his sweet-spot every second it feels like and tugging on the rim of his hole- teasing him with how easy it would be for him to put more into him. Stuff him fuller than now. Another finger. His tongue, although Bucky’s not sure he would want his mouth removed from his dick. His cock. His knot. 

The possibilities are endless and his heat frazzled mind is running with them.

His thighs tensing with how much the power of his impending orgasm is having on him, going from a puddle of pleased omega to a restless slushie that wants and needs just a tiny bit more. Just- just he’s almost there, he only needs the tiniest bit more and he’ll be-

Steve stops messily mock-blowing the parts of his dick that he can reach and goes back to drinking in the slick dripping heavy and thick from his cunt, growling into the sensitive skin. Tonguing the edges of his entrance and pulling his fingers nearly completely out before shoving his tongue into Bucky with them. Pressing relentlessly on his sweet-spot while widening his fingers, giving Bucky something to lock down on. 

Bucky feels his tears slide down his face. All the other sensations around him whiting out into nothing before coming back to him at twice the intensity, entering his fucking bloodstream and going straight to his brain. 

His muscles cramp in a way that’s not like when he’s not getting what his body is demanding he have, no, this is a sweet pull. It’s heady and a good kind of pain. Entrancing him as his orgasm crashes over him. Feeling the way his cunt ripples and attempts to milk the fingers widening and shallowly rocking inside him- gasping out a wail when he feels more slick pour out of him. 

The pressure building and breaking within him. 

He moans until his throat feels like it’s been frozen and then cracked apart, wiggling his hips around Steve’s fingers and his-

Oh, god. His /face/. 

The smaller of the two inadvertently whimpers in embarrassment, squeezing his internal muscles tighter and forcing both more cum and more slick out of himself. And now he’s picturing the way it’s dripping onto his mate’s face- the way it’s coating those unfairly full and pretty lips. Dripping down his chin maybe. 

Bucky shivers so hard that Steve has to take his fingers out of him so he can steady him with both hands, his right fully coated with slick down to his mid-forearm and sliding against Bucky’s bare hip. Making a mess of them both. 

Bucky mewls weakly, a two second warning for Steve to get out of the way before he crumbles down onto the bed. Steve flips them over easily. Groaning like he’s been shot when he rests between the ‘v’ of Bucky’s spread legs, his stomach on the bed and face on his upper thigh. 

Humming with pleasure it takes all of his omega’s energy to lift his head up and look down, moaning and involuntarily hump his hips up into the air when he sees Steve’s face. His eyes closed with a worshipful expression covering every inch of his face, his breaths still labored and the best bit: the shining skin of his lower face. Truly having been covered in Bucky’s own slick from eating him out and from making Bucky squirt on him. The only area where he can’t see the glimmer of his fresh slick is his mouth- fuck, oh shit, he probably licked it off. 

The thought makes him squirm again, feeling his gut stir with the heat that’s already ramping up once more. He whines out into the air pathetically and pouts, helpless to stop his own lips from trembling. 

“Ple-please,” he whispers, lifting his hips a little again. The burn of oncoming tears returning to him when he doesn’t feel or hear his alpha respond, “need it.” He wails a little, “need more-” he hiccups in the middle of his pleading, “need, need- you got-gotta knot me. Sorry, alpha, need-”

Then Steve’s there, shaking his head and lowering his body on top of Bucky’s with a soft but commanding, “you don’t need to be sorry baby, my ‘mega, don’t be sorry. I’ll give you anything you need.” He pauses, then corrects himself, “more than you need to.” 

Bucky hiccups, his chest aching for a different reason, his heat reaching his head and clouding his world, a feeling that’s becoming familiar the more it happens. He whines when his tongue doesn’t want to keep working, squirming and panting, trying his hardest to come up out of the sweltering need. “Love, lllove- mmmh!” 

Steve kisses him. Bucky’s own cooled slick painting his face now too instead of just Steve’s, wetting his cheeks and chin and wafting his own scent of arousal straight into his nose, he moans into Steve’s mouth. 

“I love you too,” Steve declares quietly, a growl creeping into his voice as he looks over Bucky- no doubt enjoying the mess of his arousal all over his face. 

As if it’s a normal thing then his alpha licks up his cheek, gathering more of his slick on his tongue. Then proceeds to grab Bucky’s gaped jaw with his non-slick coated hand and fucks his tongue into Bucky’s mouth, making sure he can taste himself. 

Bucky mewls, sobbing dryly with how it makes his heat spike. 

Steve does it again and again- collecting the slick that came from Bucky’s cunt, went onto Steve’s face and then back onto Bucky when they kissed before licking it up and pressing it into the omega’s mouth with filthy kisses -until Bucky can’t hold himself together anymore. Bringing his shaking legs up to clasp around his alpha’s tiny waist and whimpering into his mouth, trying to get him to fuck him already without having to go through the struggle of using words when his brain is complete and utter mush. 

He’s got no idea when Steve moves or when they stop trading heated kisses but there’s enough pillows under him to support his hips and thrust his ass up into the air, the mountain of them brushing deliciously against his sensitive dick and allowing his weak legs to only need to take a small portion of his weight when he does realize those things. 

He nuzzles the bed and gets stuck on thinking about how much he appreciates his alpha. How good of an alpha Steve is, how nice and thoughtful- getting him pillows when his legs weren’t working like they should because of the heat clawing at his rationale and logic. He squirms softly, moaning high in the back of his throat at the feeling of the pillowcase’s texture on his sensitive skin. 

He doesn’t hear the carpet muffled footsteps or the rustling of Steve climbing onto the bed over his ascending heart rate and his own movements that cause their sheets to shift around him. Bucky’s lips form another whimper, his sound being swallowed by the gentle cacophony of sound he’s making in the quiet slice of heaven that is the bedroom.

Steve trails his warm hands down his back and Bucky isn’t sure if Steve was always touching him or if he just returned back from somewhere and-

“Hey, ‘mega, you’re okay. I’m right here- you’re good. We’re good.” Steve keeps petting him, both of his hands dry and his face that’s pressed to the side of his head, speaking into his ear, is also dry. Bucky whimpers again, this one more confusion than pleasure but the blonde isn’t stopping him from humping into the pillows so it’s not entirely just that. 

One of his hands falls away from his ribs, journeying between his legs and patting the end of a dildo he’s shoved into him, making him aware of it with a drawn out groan. “Wh-wha?”

“You were out of it,” he whispers reverently, “kinda sleeping I think, ‘m not really sure, you haven’t slept since-” the heat of his face leaves and returns. Probably looking at the clock on the bedside table, he figures. “You haven’t slept since, like, four this morning. You needed it so I, uhm, put this bad boy in” he taps the end of the toy for a second time, jostling it against his insides pleasurably. His eyes roll back with a gentle moan. “Yeah. I put it in you and you stopped struggling, you went to sleep, like, immediately.” 

Bucky can hear him smiling, he smiles too- a little one that wars with his embarrassment at having fallen asleep when Steve was preparing to dick him down but, uhm, heat is like that sometimes. Usually not for him but Steve brings all kinds of weird things out of him. He’ll accept that. So long as he keeps ending up having said strange reactions- he quite enjoys them. In the pleasure they bring him and in the inadvertent pleasure, the hot way embarrassment overloads him and the overwhelming need that makes him bite off more than he can chew, occasionally making some exquisite pain bite at the edges of pleasure. 

“How ‘bout now?” Bucky asks, his voice coming out smaller and more hungry than he expects it to be. Not even understanding himself for a moment, or, rather until Steve responds by rubbing his already hard cock against his bare- and dry he notes, Steve must’ve cleaned him up too -ass. 

Steve chuckles, probably grinning like an idiot, “I can work with now.”

Bucky throws his head forward some with one of his mock thrusts, the muscles in his neck going loose like his strings had been cut, burying his face into the bed. He mewls, pushing his ass higher and forcing his back to arch more. 

“Lookit you-” Steve murmurs, backing off some to watch the view, getting an eyeful. When he leans back in it’s to whisper-growl into Bucky’s ear, nipping at the shell and sending shivers to race down Bucky’s surprisingly alive flesh, “stretching out for me like a little kitten, hmm?” 

An involuntary soft, pleased noise exits Bucky. His gut clenching while he nods, “uh-huh” he responds, breath hitching with another smart press of teeth to his earlobe. 

“Yeah- just a needy little thing. Need me in you…” Bucky can hear the mischievousness seeping directly out of his tone, trying and failing to prepare himself for his oncoming antics, “even when you’re already full.” He twists the toy- pulling a ragged moan out of the brunette. “Stuffed full with a toy and still begging for more, god, you really are a handful of a kitten. Aren’t you?”

Bucky isn’t sure why of all the things he needs to respond to when in heat it’s that but if asked he’s going to blame it on the bubble expanding in his brain. So damn near bursting it might as well be held in suspended animation, so near his breaking point where he was earlier in the day. So near crawling onto the floor to beg at Steve’s feet for his knot, so near ready to sob and have a breakdown over it that he barely can pull out a pathetic, “yes, alpha.”

His words must not be as garbled as he hears them himself because his alpha immediately responds, tugging on the dildo until the widest part is holding open his rim and watching his hole suck the silicone back in while growling. Praise falling out of his mouth with the same involuntary need. 

His legs slide further apart, the mound of pillows falling a little, whimpering and clenching his hole. Physically begging for it. 

Steve pulls out the toy and it’s so stupid. So stupid. Because he knows, he /knows/ it’s so he can put his cock inside of him but losing the fullness of being penetrated makes his eyes water. A shaky wail snaking its way out of him and into the sex-scented air, so thick Bucky can basically taste it when he inhales wetly. 

With the toy fully out of him his watery grey-blue eyes are clamped shut and his mouth is hanging open, little gasps of displeasure so strong he almost wants to describe it as pain greeting the world with every hitched breath, his muscle twitching unhappily. He can smell his own distress in the air its so pungent. 

It gets about ten times worse when Steve doesn’t just shove into him, he dips his fingers into his sloppy cunt instead, Bucky doesn’t understand. Whimpering as tears finally make their way out from under his eyelids. Two of his fingers does feel good but- but he needs more. He’s gotta have more. It’s not fair. He’s not even pressing against his walls in search of anything or trying to provide any particular /good/ feeling, he’s just got his fingers in him. Tourture- it’s the only word Bucky can think to describe it.

His trembling lips release an impressively pathetic sob that’s dangerously close to a wail when his fingers leave after a few moments. 

He tries to get up and follow them weakly. Pushing his hips up and back and attempting to situate his arms under him, whimpering at his own expense when he collapses. His weight not being able to be held up when he’s like this- stuck needing it so bad. He whimpers louder. Not thinking clearly at all beyond a repeated why, why, whywhywhy-

“Shhhh, ‘mega, one second.” Steve’s somewhere behind him, sounding strained and Bucky doesn’t understand. He doesn’t- what is he doing? Why? Why is he doing this? What even is thi-

The tip of Steve’s cock kisses his entrance, sliding between his folds and into his slick center. 

Bucky’s brain blacks out with relief, a keen making its way out of his chest, high and feminine in pitch. Bucky doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about what desperate sounds he’s making. He doesn’t care what the hell Steve was doing. He doesn’t give a fuck about where he dropped or where he put that toy. He doesn’t-

“That the spot, Buck?” His alpha teases and had Bucky not been a human pile of melted cotton candy sticking to Steve’s cooling heat he would’ve shouted at him. 

Now he just lets his eyes roll back into his head, moaning with his exhale in relief. It kind of is the spot. His cunt being forced open, more open then it was with the toy, and the thick shaft of his cock endlessly getting deeper inside him. 

The couple of seconds that it takes Steve to slide his cock into Bucky’s cunt feels like it takes an eternity for him but with the amount of slick built up inside him it clearly doesn’t, his pelvis kissing his ass and setting more of Bucky’s blood boiling. His cunt throbbing like a misbehaving tooth and all of his energy and focus funneling toward it. 

Steve starts to pull back some- Bucky sobs. Tears being driven from him so easily at this point in his cycle that it’s not even funny. His entire world is upside down and on fire. Pleasure electrocuting him everytime Steve moves, whether it be into or out of him. The sounds of their bodies meeting echoing inside his head as if the rest of the space is empty. And honestly, with the way Steve’s hips are pistoning in and out of him- his once solid brain might be dripping out of his ears. The overflow spilling out like a rocked glass of water that’s filled too full. 

His hands lock up and claw at the sheets, the overwhelming feelings confusing his muscles and stunting his movements. The fabric beneath him quickly dampening and becoming less and less of an efficient muffle with the increase of volume in his fucked-out sounds. 

Then Steve’s hips fucking stop. 

Bucky wails or sobs or- he doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s too out of his mind. He was /so/ close. His dick and cunt /hurts/- he was so close. He claws more at the sheets, more tears dripping down his face, the rivulets of slick that were being forced out of him with the speed of their mating stopping to an easy, consistent leak. He clenches around Steve. Hard. Intending, according to the only part of his brain that words, his hindbrain, that the squeezing of his internal walls won’t allow him to slip out. 

A hand comes to the back of his neck, scruffing him. 

Bucky freezes. Stopping his distressed squirming and finally hearing the words coming from his mate, “hey, hey, shhhh, I jus’... you listening?” Buck can’t respond with the hold he has on him, can’t think with his hand there, can’t-

“Right. I jus’ wanna try something.” He growls, pulling Bucky’s back up to press against his chest, “thought of it while you were out and, and I might die if I don’t get to try it on you. ‘Kay?” 

The new position pushes his cock much deeper inside of him, the scruff also helping and causing even the base of his cock that is very close to being fully blown into his complete knot. Tears are forced out of his eyes at the increased pressure inside him. 

Steve presents something to him, placing it in front of his chest where Bucky should be able to see it but he’s too- too… 

The hand still at the nape of his neck shakes him, his leaner body going willingly with his intentions. He hears the desperate wail he was making, displeased with being unable to focus on anything that’s not right in his face under the influence of his heat. Steve growls, kissing his neck possessively. 

“Here, then-” he slides something onto Bucky’s dick. Bucky moans, feeling gutted. “You don’t have to see, jus’ feel ‘mega.” He husks, the shape of his sharp grin being brushed over his scent gland. Spiking his body with seriously addictive pleasure. 

Bucky figures it has to be one of the fleshlights that he bought a while back for /experimentation/ but he doesn’t know. Doesn’t want to. His alpha said to just feel, so he will. His head lolls back onto Steve’s wide shoulder. 

Whining when his hips start back up with the addition of one of his hands leaving it’s perch on his hip with the other to stroke the fleshlight over his dick. Squeezing him just right and obscenely slick with- 

No. He- 

He wouldn’t, right? That’s, that’s filthy. 

The omega is right on the edge anyway, less than a step away from the edge he was pulled away from so abruptly, so it just isn’t /fair/ when Steve smirks, licking over his scent gland and growls out, “filled it,” flicking his head forward, like if he didn’t Bucky wouldn’t know what he’s talking about. 

“Filled it full with the toy that was jus’ in your hungry cunt so it should be nice an’ warmed up for you, slick with your own slick. Not lube.” 

Bucky whimpers, only half processing what he’s saying beyond the filthy hotness that’s dripping down his body from where the words are hitting his ears. The slick sounds from both in front and behind him overwhelmingly hot. Naughty. Feeling like he shouldn’t like it so much but he does so it feels even better. Steve keeps talking, gasping breaths sitting between his words with the harsh pace he’s set. Pounding into the omega on his lap. One hand clenched around his hips helping move him up and down a little in addition to slapping his hips up into him with the other forcing him to fuck the toy. Sweat pouring off both of them. 

“Gonna fill this cunt full and you’re gonna fill that toy full with your little dick, gonna get it wetter than it is already, yeah? Gonna be a good little ‘mega for me an’ fill it up. Mus’ feel nice, squeezing that dick, so little, so sensitive an’ pretty. Just a little slip of thing.” Steve bites at the base of his neck with an unhinged groan, getting close to the edge himself, somehow not getting a mouthful of hair in the process. 

“Easy to miss, that little thing, aren’t you glad ‘m treating you nice an’ helping you out. Letting you fuck something while I fuck you…” He groans again, mirroring Bucky’s desperate noises. 

The only sounds for a while is the desperate wet slapping of their bodies colliding, Steve’s entire crotch and lap soaked with Bucky’s slick. The sounds Bucky’s making that he can’t even recognize himself, crazed and hungry. Steve’s words hitting him and pummeling through. Seeing into his core and picking out things that he didn’t even know about himself. Setting his body and soul and fucking aura ablaze with his actions and killer words. 

Bucky loses all time and any semblance of awareness beyond his own head when Steve muses aloud, “too bad you don’t cum enough to fill anyone up the way I do with you. Would love to see you breed someone up-” he continues breathily, “guess I’ll have to do it myself. Ready, ‘mega?” 

Bucky fucking dives off of the cliff and plunges into his orgasm head first, screaming for his alpha and locking /tight/ around his alpha. Heady pleasure rushing in when he feels the first, and biggest, gush of cum into his cunt. Satiating his need to be full. To feel his alpha’s fat knot pulse in the home of his body. His need to be bred breaking like a fever, leaving him weak and shaky. 

His vision behind his eyelids coloring with fireworks at every pulse of cum pumping him full. Imagining he can feel it filling up his cunt and fattening his stomach. Whimpering with the image of how if just his alpha’s cum makes him look like that, stomach pressed out in a fantastic little curve, how his pup would look in him. His dick leaking more in the tight, hot sleeve of the fleshlight and running down and out of it’s opening onto the thin skin of his groin. Proving Steve’s point with his dick being small. 

He shivers, giggling manically when Steve pulls him closer. His cock still pulsing and twitching in the lock of his internal walls, riding his orgasm hazily. His hips thrusting forward here and there when he can’t control it, separating Bucky’s wild giggles with gasps and moans. The pressure inside him climbing- as always. 

Steve licks up his neck, kissing and biting at his jaw, panting when he asks, “what- what’s up with you?” 

Bucky purrs, squeezing his cunt tighter intentionally and rocking back the couple of millimeters, drawing sounds from the both of them, “jus’ love you an’ you’re ideas.” 

Steve rumbles happily, awkwardly connecting their lips with the new angle, Bucky’s head completely hooked over his shoulder. Laughing and growling into his lips, “yeah, Buck. I love you too, you and your orgasm stupid brain. It’s cute.” 

Bucky scrunches up his nose to attempt and look like he’s retaliating but it fails horribly, his laughter breaking through with the assistance of a breathy sigh. He stretches his neck up for another kiss. Content to stay like this for the rest of his years.

**Author's Note:**

> You can come scream at me on Tumblr if you wish! It's the same username as I have here: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/fandomfluffandfuck


End file.
